


It Started With A Text

by MessyInsomniacBookGirl



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Female Character, Character Study, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual relationship, F/M, Grief, Humor, M/M, Oh Gawd This Is Going To Hurt..., Physical Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Relationship(s), Spiralling Down, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessyInsomniacBookGirl/pseuds/MessyInsomniacBookGirl
Summary: Follow Kate, as she navigates her life, when it spirals down after a devastating event, that leaves her bleeding and broken, literally. If only she'd met him before all this...----------This will be a very Mature story, with gory and shocking elements.WARNING: Triggers inside. Read the Tags!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a very Mature story, with gory and shocking elements.
> 
> WARNING: Triggers inside. Read the Tags!
> 
> \-------
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> I make no money from this story.
> 
> This is my Horrible Sandbox...

**Chapter 1**

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:06_

Ben! My man! I’m back in town. You got time for a few pints this weekend?

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:08_

I am. No. Man. 

Who’s this?

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:11_

Are you the one who has slain the Witch King of Angmar?

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:13_

I’ve slain many Kings. 

Who’s asking?

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:15_

People call me the Trickster. What do I call you?

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:18_

The Trickster? There are so many. Which Trickster? Are you Anansi? Or Set? Puck? Loki? Espen Askeladd? Coyote? Genie? Hermes? Reynaert? Prometheus? I’m confused…

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:21_

I’m impressed.

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:23_

I’m not.

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:24_

Ouch, that’s a bit harsh.

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:25_

I don’t pull my punches. I slay.

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:27_

Kings?

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:29_

Kings. Evil Beasties. Furniture. And about everything else that comes between me and my chocolate… Or between me and my ice-cream.

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:31_

You seem a bit unhinged. 

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:32_

Says the one who told me he’s the Trickster… 

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:33_

Touché. You’re a witty one.

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:34_

Takes one to know one. So, what’s the name you go by, tricky one?

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:38_

You may call me Loki.

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:40_

Are you serious?

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:41_

Sometimes. 

 

_Unknown Number07/04/2017 22:42_

Oooookay. You’re a tad strange. Well, if you’re Loki, then you can call me Saga.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:44_

Saga? 

 

_Unknown Number 07/04/2017 22:46_

Saga. If you thought I’d be Sigyn, you’re sorely mistaken. I slay, I do not condemn myself to being a basin holder for the rest of time. I’m not that selfless. Sorry-not-sorry dude.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 22:48_

Fair enough. So, a seeress and personification of tales, eh?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 22:50_

Yup. A goddess of tales and mythology fits me much better than some obscure deity with a saviour complex. I like stories.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 22:53_

Good for you. I’m also more of a fan of stories, than of clingy women. ;-)

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 22:54_

You and me both, man. I detest it when a girlfriend attaches herself to me as if she’s velcro. :)

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 22:55_

Girlfriend? Wait… Are you a man or a woman?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 22:56_

What? As a woman, I can’t like women? :-/

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 22:58_

Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to offend. Of course you can. I’m sorry if that was rude.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 22:59_

No prob, dude. I’m a bit testy at the moment. Shit date. Shit night. I **hate** my life.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:02_

What happened?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:05_

Shit day at work. People not cooperating. You know how it is. 

Then I go on this blind date -I don’t know where my cousin keeps finding these losers-, who drones on about football, and about how many types of beer he has tried in his -oh so tedious- life. Had no interest in a two-way conversation, whatsoever.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:06_

He? Not she? 

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:10_

Yes, he. I’m bi.

So I see him ogling one of the female bartenders in the pub we’re at, while he’s going on about some rare beer or another. He loses his train of thought, and he almost drools, when she brings us more drinks. I have to admit, her breasts _were_ glorious. But so are mine, and he’s on a date with me, not her. Fucker.

So I say to him, I’d also rather go home with a hot bartender, than stay in the pub with a completely boring date. 

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:11_

Absolutely understandable. I’m a straight male, by the way; just to keep the knowledge of our gender and orientations on equal ground.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:15_

Cheers, mate, I appreciate it.

So, my remark on the bartender was supposed to be scathingly sarcastic. I didn’t wanna be there, and I thought I’d let him know that I’m not interested. In a dick way, I know, but he seemed a bit thick from the get go, and I thought I’d bring it to him in terms he’d understand.

Fucker translates this to: me wanting a threesome. Turns out my cousin told him I’m bi, and he now thinks I’m inviting him to some orgy. Dude’s all over me in seconds, all grabby hands and drooling mouth, because being bi, apparently is synonymous to being open to screwing more than one person at once, and within hours of meeting said person.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:17_

Shit. What a tosser. Are you safe? Did you get away?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:20_

Yes, I’m okay. I kinda decked him, and had him removed from the premises. It’s one of those pubs with the flyers, that say if you’re on a date, and if you’re afraid or uncomfortable, you can let the bartenders know, and they will help you. So I did, and they did. :)

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:21_

Oh, thank god. I was worried for a moment there.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:23_

Your concern is appreciated, Trickster. 

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:25_

So, where are you now? Did you go home? Tell me you rang for a taxi, and didn't walk, after that creep was kicked out of the pub.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:30_

I’m still sitting in the same pub, at the bar, and I’m nursing a pint. Debating on giving up dating as a whole, or just the male part of the dating pool. 

Can you tell me what the fuck is wrong with men these days? 

Yes, I may be bi, but I’m strictly monogamous, and so are most other bi people, I think. I’m either with a man or with a woman. Not with both at the same time. I’m not automatically polyamorous, or poly-anything, just because I’m bi. 

This wasn't the first time a date/boyfriend mentally jumps to threesome conclusions, within moments of me mentioning my bisexuality. It wasn't the second or third time either. It’s tedious, scary and invasive. Wait, did I say scary? **Terrifying** is more like it.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:34_

I’m trying to come up with a reason why men act the way they do. I got nothing. All I can do is apologise on behalf of my gender. I’m sorry.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:38_

And all I can tell you, is what I see happening when a man hears the Bi-word. 

It goes like this; it’s like the flip of a switch: (blind) date - oh, nice girl - talk - drink a bit - eat - really nice girl - conversation- maybe second date material? - more polite conversation - I’d like to see her again - a bit more personal conversation - she’s bi?!? - I can’t believe my luck! - I’m gonna fuck two girls at once! - she’s my kind of slut - I want it now - stick my hand up her skirt - pick up another girl - where do we find another girl? - does this chick have bi friends? - I wanna fuck now - whore - give me what I want! - what do you mean ‘no’ - you fucking bitch! - I know you want it! - frigid bitch! - you ugly whore! -I didn't want to fuck you anyway, you fat slob!...

I’m so sick of it. It’s devastating to live through this, more or less 50% of the time I go on a (blind) date with a man. I don’t wanna do this anymore. :’-(

Shit, I’m rambling. I think I’m a bit drunk. :(

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:40_

Have the bartender call you a taxi, love. You need to get home safe.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:41_

Yeah. Pub’s closing soon anyway. I’ll ask.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:42_

Done. Taxi ETA 10 mins.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:42_

Okay. You let me know when you’re home safe?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:44_

I should have just taken the Tube. Much cheaper than a taxi. Takes longer though.

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:45_

You’re in London?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:45_

Yup. Good Ol’ London. How bout U?

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:46_

London. 

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:46_

U shittin’ me? O.o

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:46_

Nope.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:47_

Wow

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:47_

Yeah

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:48_

So…

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:48_

So? What, so?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:49_

Wanna be pen pals?

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:50_

Pen pals.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:50_

Yeah. Waddayathink?

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:50_

How old are you?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:52_

Are. You. Serious? I just spilled my guts on my crap dating life, and had verbal diarrhoea about asshole guys who wanna fuck in threesomes, and you’re asking me about my age? You worried I’m a some early blooming 14 year old? Dude!

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:53_

You’re right. That was stupid. Sorry.

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:54_

You better be. 

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:54_

Taxi’s here. 

33

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:55_

Okay. Get home safe.

33?

 

_Saga 07/04/2017 23:55_

33

TTYL

 

_Loki 07/04/2017 23:56_

Pen pals. Cool. 

36

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 0:23_

I'm home safe, old man.

Nightnight. 

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 0:26_

Good Night, Saga. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witty Texts and Emotional Texts and Witty Texts.

**Chapter 2**

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 09:20_

How’s your head?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 09:23_

Shuddupimsleeping

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 09:24_

That bad, huh?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 09:25_

Stoplaughinguasshole

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 09:27_

How do you know I’m laughing?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 09:29_

Canhearur evilcackle alldewayoverhere tricksta Grr

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 09:31_

Did you lose your spelling, grammar _and_ interpunction somewhere on your way home last night? You seem to be missing a few bolts and screws at the moment.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 09:34_

Screwthis uasshole lemmesleep ! Lookexclamationpoint!

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 09:36_

You are by far the most disrespectful and foulmouthed pen pal I’ve ever had...

I’m thoroughly amused.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 09:38_

Yeahimabitchwithahangover sosuemefucker Nowstop texting. thepingsmakingmyheadexplode. Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase stop. Willsurfacelater2daywithwittybanterpromise.

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 09:39_

Okay

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 09:40_

Aaaaarrggghghgggghhhh

 

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 14:38_

Oh shit. I thought I drunk dreamt you. O.O

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 14:45_

Nope. I’m very real.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 14:47_

Oh god, I’m so sorry. 

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 14:48_

No need to apologise. I like having you as a pen pal.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 14:48_

Pen pal? Wait. Let me read the whole conversation. BRB.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 14:53_

Oh shit. shit shit shit shit. I’m So SOOO sorry! O.O 

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 14:56_

Sorry for what? Being into your cups because a guy treated you very badly? I thought your honesty was very refreshing. Not something I come across very often these days. Not to mention that you’re hilarious when hungover/drunk ;-) 

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 14:58_

You were trying to contact your friend and I totally hi-jacked your conversation for almost 2.5 hours. I’m so sorry. I’m a horrible drunk. I just start talking -or texting- and I don’t stop until I pass out. 

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:00_

It really is okay, darling. I was the one who texted the wrong person. My friend just got a new number and it wasn't in my phone yet. And maybe I didn't reach him last night, but I gained a very funny and witty pen pal. And that’s a win in my book.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:01_

Really? You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:04_

Well, of course I’m trying to make you feel better. 

That doesn't negate the fact that I like talking to you, though. So, hence the ‘happy-with-the-new-pen-pal-situation’ remark.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:07_

Oh. Okay. 

So… Where in London do you live? 

Not that I want an address. I like the idea of anonymity in this pen pal exchange. Just give me the general direction.

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:09_

I’m in NW London. Between Chalk Farm and Belsize Park.

You? 

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:12_

NW? Swanky. You’re a posh old man, aren't you?

I’m in SM4. That’s Morden. I’m very lucky to have found an affordable flat, that’s about 2 mins walk from the Underground, and also close to all local amenities. And I’m only 30 mins from Central London :) Yay!

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:15_

I am. Not. Old. 

Or posh.

Morden? Isn’t that close to Wimbledon?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:16_

_I_ think you _are_. Posh old man! ;)

Um, yes, that’s about 10 mins from here, by bus. Why?

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:18_

Oh, it’s just, I love tennis. I always try to attend Wimbledon if I’m in Town. Have you ever been?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:20_

To the Wimbledon Championships? No, can’t say that I have. Haven't ever really followed tennis. Sorry. You’re not really diverting me from thinking you're a posh old man, with the Wimbledon remarks, you know… 

What do you mean, if you’re in Town? You travel a lot?

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:24_

No worries, darling. If I ever have an extra ticket, I’ll send you a text, see if you would be so inclined as to join me, for a day at Wimbledon. Trust me, it’s a lot of fun, even if you’re not a tennis fan. I am _not_ posh. Or old. Watch your manners young lady! ;)

Yes, I travel often, for work. Sometimes I’m away for months on end.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:29_

Oh, I don't know. You’re sounding more and more _posh_ by the second. Isn’t Wimbledon disgustingly expensive? I couldn't accept that ticket. It’s not right, to spend so much money on someone whose real name you don't even know. I don't want you to do that. 

Wow, that must be hard, to be away for so long. 

I’m not going to ask you what you do, professionally. Just as I’m not telling you what I do.

I like having a ‘blind’ friendship, where one can be ones self, without having to live up to any expectations, whatsoever. It’s nice. :)

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:33_

Don’t sell yourself short, love. Why don't you think it over. You might like tennis ;-)

Yes, being away from home is hard, but I love my job, and I get to see so much of the world. It’s an almost even trade-off :-)

So, which topics are off-limits and which are okay to discuss?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:39_

Well, let’s see. Whatever could betray our identities is off-limits, I think. So no mention of which occupation we have. No addresses. No names. That’s it, I guess. Unless we think of something else in the future. Just tell me if you’re not comfortable with disclosing something and I’ll let you know the same. Okay?

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:41_

That’s fine.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:42_

So, what do you want to know about me?

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:44_

Favourite food.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:44_

Easy: either pizza, or sushi; can't really choose. Over all, I usually eat vegetarian, but once in a while I like to treat myself to sushi. And I love Chocolate. And Ice-cream. And Chocolate. And Sticky Toffee Pudding. Did I mention Chocolate? Sweeeeeeetnessssss!!! :D

You?

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:47_

Heh! Any pudding for me. Chocolate is nice. I have a very serious sweet tooth. Pizza is nice too, and I make a mean Spaghetti Bolognese. I like Italian food.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 15:49_

Okay, my turn. Of any and all Actors/Actresses from all the era’s: Fuck, Marry, Kill.

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 15:58_

Ooooh, that’s such a hard question! (pun NOT intended! Get your mind out of the gutter!) Hm, I’d Fuck… Catherine Zeta-Jones; Marry… Kate Winslet; Kill… Do I really have to kill?! Dammit… Sorry, Natalie Dormer. 

Why are you asking me this? This question is just wrong! :(

How ‘bout you?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:02_

Wow, those are quite unusual choices. I like :)

Well for me it’d be: Fuck… Cate Blanchett/Tom Hardy; Marry… Anna Paquin/Hugh Jackman; Kill… Charlize Theron/Steven Seagal. But Charlize would probably kick my butt, and walk away victorious. XD

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:06_

And Steven wouldn’t?! 

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:07_

Nah, he’s old and slow ;-P

Your turn!

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:10_

Harsh.

Okay, do you have any celebrities in your circle of friends? And if you do, who?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:12_

That’s a strange question. Are you trying to figure out if I’m a celebrity?

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:14_

No, I’m playing six degrees of separation. :)

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:16_

Oh. Well, in that case, I do, yes. I know Mark Gatiss. I’m not a celebrity, and I’m not in showbiz, though. And Mark is the only person I know, who is really famous. So, for you that’s only one degree of separation ;)

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:19_

Wow, that’s cool! How do you know Mark Gatiss?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:23_

Well, my big brother, who was 9 years my senior, was best mates with Ian, Mark’s husband, from childhood. So, I’ve known Ian all my life, and ever since Ian and Mark got together, Mark has also been a good friend. 

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:25_

Your brother **_was_** best mates with Ian? What happened?

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:32_

He died 10 years ago, from cancer. He took care of me after our parents died in a car crash, when I was 12. Ian used to help out a lot. With shopping, and rent, and looking after me when my brother had to work nights. 

After my brother passed away, Ian and Mark stepped in, and became my surrogate big brothers, and very nosey uncles, all wrapped into one. They’re like family. They looked out for me when I was in a very bad place and had no-one else to fall back on.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:32_

Wow, that became dark, fast. :( That was not my intention. Just forget I sent that. First I dump my dating trouble on you, and now my sad life story. What a drag. And I’ve been babbling at you for almost 2 hours! I’m sorry for taking up so much of your Saturday. 

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:40_

I am so sorry for your loss. 

Saga, it’s okay. I don’t mind learning about you. Almost everyone has sadness, and some sort of hardship, in their past. It’s what made you what you are. There is no shame in that.

Let me tell you a few things about me, to restore the balance. I have two sisters. One is older and one is younger than me. My parents are divorced. Have been since I was in my early teens. I’ve been educated at boarding schools, because my parents thought it would be beneficial for my development. It was a very lonely and sad time for me.

My sisters and my parents are all still very much alive and I’m very grateful for that.

I’ve been in a few long-term relationships, but somehow none of the women stuck around. Probably because I’m always so busy with work and travel. I have the bad habit that I tend to forget everything around me when I’m working, including my significant others. That usually doesn't go down well, as you can imagine. 

So, even though I get homesick once in a while, I have nothing to come home to. My house is pretty devoid of life, because I’m not here much, and I don't have anyone to come home to. I usually end up at my mum’s place at one point. She lives near the beach and I love it there.

Look at us. Two thirty-somethings going on twelve. Trying to find their way in life. Playing at being pen pals. :)

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:45_

Thank you. It was a long time ago though. I’ve made my peace with it.

Your past hasn't been without its ups and downs either, has it? I’m sorry you had to go through that.

Jesus, I need a drink after all that.

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:46_

Wrong Pantheon, darling.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:46_

OMG hahaha. I’m cackling like the witch I am. XD You do know how to lighten the mood ;)

Loki, take the wheel, I’m getting some wine from the fridge.

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:47_

Good idea, I’ll be back.

 

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:51_

Shit, who’s been driving if you didn't take the wheel!? O.O

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:53_

Not me. I was getting wine. 

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:54_

You really are the god of chaos, aren't you?! We almost crashed and burned!

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 16:56_

Better park this vehicle. We shouldn't drink and drive.

 

_Saga 08/04/2017 16:58_

Good Idea. I need to do some cooking anyway. 

I have an early morning tomorrow, gotta be at work by 8, so I’m gonna have to end this convo for today. Alarm goes off at 6. After Tea it’s almost bedtime for me. :) So, have a nice evening and a good night, Loki. Bye.

 

_Loki 08/04/2017 17:00_

Bon appetite and good night, darling! Bye.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being text pals isn't always nice. Sometimes it's gritty and it sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> I make no money from this.
> 
> Welcome to my Horrible Sandbox.

**Chapter 3**

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 02:51_

O Saga, Saga, wherefore art thou Saga?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 02:52_

Saga

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 02:53_

Saga

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 02:53_

Saga?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 02:54_

Saga, where are u?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 02:55_

Yooooohoooooo?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 02:56_

WHAT?!? THE?!? FUCK?!? DUDE!!!

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 02:58_

What?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 02:58_

Whaddayamean, WHAT? 

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 02:59_

Why r u shouting?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:01_

It’s the middle of the night. Trying 2 sleep. Have to be up in 3 hours. Some of us have 2 work 2day.

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:03_

Oh. 

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:04_

Well, what is it? Why u texting me @ this ungodly hr? We already texted yesterday.

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:05_

I’m bored :(

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:05_

Bored

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:06_

Yes

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:06_

Right. Gnight Loke. >:-/

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:07_

Saga?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:08_

Saga?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:08_

Saga?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:09_

Saga?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:09_

Saga?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:10_

Saga?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:10_

WHAT?!?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:10_

Are you angry?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:11_

Fucker!

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:11_

I did. :D

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:12_

You did what?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:12_

Fuck her. Get it? Fucker —> Fuck her? LOL XD

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:13_

Jesus Christ. Are you DRUNK?!? O.O

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:14_

Maybe? 

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:14_

But I still fucked her. Yay! :D

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:15_

Good for you. Can’t you go and keep her awake, instead of me?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:16_

She left. :(

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:16_

It was that bad, huh? 3:-)

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:17_

What? No it wasn’t!

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:17_

She always leaves, after. She just doesn’t like 2 snuggle.

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:18_

Why not? O.o

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:19_

She says she likes her independence. She always pays for her half of the meal, too. And for her ticket when we go 2 the theatre. I respect that.

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:20_

Oh dear… 

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:20_

What?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:20_

Are you serious about her? Being in your life?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:21_

I think so. I really like her. :) Was thinking about bringing her to meet my mum next week. Go to the coast and have a nice weekend together. :D

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:25_

Hello? Saga? Did you fall asleep?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:26_

Um, no. I was just trying to find a way to break it to you gently… 

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:26_

Break what?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:27_

Loki, I don’t think she wants to meet you mum. Or have a nice weekend together. I’m sorry, but to me, it sounds like you’re more of a fuck-buddy to her, than a boyfriend. Now, I know, I don’t really know you, or your circumstances. But I know women. And, usually, if a woman is still _that_ distant after a few months of dating, she doesn’t really want a relationship. She just needs someone to go out with sometimes, and have a nice fuck, after. You're a convenience to her.

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:31_

Loki?

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:32_

You’re right. You don’t know me. And you don’t know anything about her.

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:33_

I’m sorry.

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:34_

I hope I’m wrong.

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:37_

You are. 

 

_Loki 23/04/2017 03:38_

Good night.

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:38_

I’m really sorry, Loki. I spoke out of turn and it’s none of my business.

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:41_

Loki?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:41_

I'm so sorry.

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:43_

Loki?

 

_Saga 23/04/2017 03:47_

Good night.

 

 

—————

 

 

_Loki 27/04/2017 23:16_

You were right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short and sweet one.

**Chapter 4**

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:12_

FML

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:18_

???

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:19_

Fuck. My. Life.

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:19_

What happened?

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:20_

Sometimes I just wish that violence wasn’t as frowned upon as it is.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:20_

I’d kill everyone dead and have it over with. *sigh*

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:21_

That bad, huh?

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:22_

Yup. Work sucks today. Tell me something funny. Hurry, before my break is over and I have to go back to my bench to row.

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:24_

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:24_

That’s not remotely funny. What kind of a friend are you?

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:25_

Sorry, my improv needs work.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:26_

Yeah, don’t lose your day job. So, how’s Rebound Girl?

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:27_

Do you really have to call her that?

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:28_

Yup. 

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:29_

I broke up with her.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:29_

Oh. 

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:29_

I’m sorry. What happened?

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:32_

She started to drop hints that I take her on a holiday. To the Maldives.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:33_

What? After only two dates?! O.O

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:34_

Yeah, that’s what I said. And then she threw a tantrum. It was quite scary. 

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:34_

How old did you say she was? O.o

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:35_

I didn’t.

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:35_

24

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:36_

Cradle robber.

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:36_

What? She’s an adult.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:36_

Barely.

So, now what? You jumping right back into the dating pool?

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:37_

Nah, I think I’ll just take it easy for a while. It’s gonna be just me and my hand from now on.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:38_

Oh, maaaaaannn, TMI! TMI!!!! You did not just say that! You. Did. Not. Just. Say. That. Goddammit. 

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:38_

Mwhahahahahaha

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:39_

Evil git!

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:39_

Yes, I am. 3:-)

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:40_

Won’t have time to date, anyway. Gotta go fly around the world for my job again, soon.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:40_

Ah, you’re so lucky. You see so much of the world.

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:41_

I know. But sometimes I just wish I could stay longer in one place. Lay down some roots, you know.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:41_

If you want that, why not do it?

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:43_

It’s not that easy. I have a lot of responsibilities at the moment. A lot of people’s jobs hang on me being there to do mine. But, if all goes well, I hope to have some more time off, after this trip is done.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:43_

You going away for long?

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:43_

No, just a few days, this time. A week at most.

 

_Saga 05/05/2017 15:44_

Hey, I gotta go. Break was over four minutes ago, and supervisor is not happy with me. I'm sorry to have to cut this short. Have a good trip and TTYL okay? BYEEEE! *wave*

 

_Loki 05/05/2017 15:45_

No problem. Okay, thanks! Have a good rest of your day! Don't get blisters from rowing! Bye!

 

_ Saga 05/05/2017 15:45 _

That's still not funny. :-/

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more info on Saga's Background.

**Chapter 5**

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:31_

Hello? Lokster, you there?  
I need... Help?!

You remember how I told you, the day before yesterday, about a colleague from work, who set me up with this guy she knows, through her boyfriend. I’m supposed to be going on a double date with her and her BF, and his friend.  
Yes, you do remember?

Well, the men are both hotshot money-wizards at a bank in the City, and we're meeting at this extremely posh restaurant in Mayfair. 

I heard that the guy I’m supposed to date with, wanted to go to this Michelin Star hotspot. He knows where I work, and that I don't make as much money as he does, and still he insists on going to a restaurant, where the average menu price is way more than I can afford. What an asshole move. 

Is this a tactic to guilt me into sex when he offers to pay the bill? Or is this more of a brag date? Does he want to show off his wealth? How does this work with you posh boys? I never really go out with rich people.

If he expects me to put out, just because he shoulders the bill, he's going to be sorely disappointed. I have some savings which I can use, to pay for my half. But it's still going to suck, though.

Yeah, I think I'm gonna do that. I'm not comfortable with the whole scenario of posh dude takes working class girl to posh, overly expensive, restaurant. It makes me feel uneasy. I feel like a freaking high-end prostitute :(

Am I too jaded? Not really looking forward to this date. *sigh* And what the hell do I wear?!? Why did I let her talk me into this?!? *headdesk*

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:38_

Well, hello there, Saga! :-) How was work? How have you been?

That’s quite a conundrum you’ve got there. I can’t speak for all men of course, but I wouldn't push for going to a restaurant if my date didn’t feel comfortable with it. I assume you let your hesitance on the choice of venue be known to the other parties involved?

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:41_

Hey, Loki! Nice of you to ask. :) I've had lots of instances of being professional to people at work, instead of banging their heads against the wall, like I wanted to. So, same old, same old. JK. I’m fine, just like all the other times you've asked me, over the past week ;)

Yup, I did. We have this App-group that the four of us use, to communicate about the double date. I’ve voiced my objections. They’ve been swept aside by both men. My colleague understood my reasons, but as she all but lives with her boyfriend, she doesn't really mind if he wants to pay for her, and she didn't really back me up after that. :( 

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:42_

You could always bow out, if you’re not sure about this man.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:44_

I could, but I wouldn't hear the end of it at work. My colleague is sort of my manager? Ugh I hate this :( Got myself in quite the mess, didn't I?

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:45_

Oh dear, that’s a problem. Yes, I agree it wasn't very sensible of you to acquiesce to your colleague’s suggestion of a double date. Nothing to be done but to get it over with, then.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:46_

No need to use sagacious language to gloss over the fact that I was just plain stupid, Silvertongue! Just give me your sapiential counsel on how to go about in choosing my apparel for this farcical cahoot.

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:47_

Says the Tale-spinner Goddess. Might I inquire how it is that a woman who describes herself as a ‘working-class’ girl, has a greater range of vocabulary than most people who have been born into middle or higher class Britain?

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:49_

I have an Oxford double first in English Language & Literature and a MSt in Creative Writing; the first two, thanks to a scholarship for low-income students, and with the latter, I studied part-time over 3 years; work by day, study by night, and write my masters thesis whenever I had the chance. 

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:50_

I’m impressed. Perseverance, intelligence, wit, and a passion for the written language. A person after my own heart :-) I’m glad you were given the opportunity to follow your dreams. Education is so important.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:51_

Yeah, well, I should’ve gone with Business, or Law, ‘cuz the pay for creatives is shite. ;) It’s good I’ve got a day job, because I wouldn't be able to support myself with creative writing. So far all my finished stories/novellas/novels/plays/scripts/etc. have been rejected by god knows how many institutions. I’ve written a couple of articles for lesser known magazines, but those are few and far between. And, as I said, the pay sucks.

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:52_

Wait. You write scripts? Plays? Have you shown them to Mark Gatiss? I’m sure he could help you if he thinks your writing is good. 

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:53_

What? No. I don't want special treatment. I want to make it on my own and not use Mark as a crutch. He doesn't even know I write stuff for his line of work. He thinks I’m an aspiring novelist. Which is true. Sort of… I want to do it all. The novels and the scripts/plays.

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:55_

Okay, I can respect wanting to get where you want to be, on your own merit. I’m now very curious about what kind of stories you write. Would you mind if I read some of your stories/novellas/novels/plays/scripts/etc.? Then I could give you my -layman’s- opinion on your writing. We’d have one more subject to talk about ;-)

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:56_

Sure, I guess. I’ll send you some of my stuff later. Now I need your opinion on what to wear tonight. LBD? I’ve got a black v-neck wrap dress with three quarter sleeves; the hem ends just above my knees. And, maybe, I still have a flowery thing from last summer? But that’s a bit short. More a beach dress kind of thing. I don't really wear dresses all that often…

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:58_

The wrap dress sounds fine. Can’t really go wrong with black. It’s understated, timeless and classy. Pair it with a statement necklace and you’ll be set.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:58_

Dude, you sure you're not gay? 

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 16:59_

Very sure. I checked, when I was in my early 20’s. ;-)

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 16:59_

How deliciously adventurous :)

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:00_

Yeah yeah, stop stalling and show me the dress.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:00_

Um, what do you mean, show you the dress?

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:00_

Put on the dress and snap a pic.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:01_

I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. :P

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:01_

Sure. Just to keep it anonymous, no faces, ok?

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:01_

Deal. BRB

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:06_

IMG_2408.JPG12 May 201717:05:01

I’m still on my bare feet, because heels hurt like a mofo. Always put the heels on at the last possible moment. And take them off at the first opportunity you get.

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:06_

Made me choke on my laughter in the middle of a meeting. Holding a Kate Winslet magazine cover in front of your face was brilliantly found. That’s a lovely dress by the way. Shows of your hourglass shape. You have Kate Winslet’s curves. Are you sure you’re not Kate? O.o

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:06_

Oh shit. You’re in a meeting? I’m sorry! I’ll leave you to it.

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:07_

No, it’s okay, we’ve decided to break for lunch. It was a very boring meeting anyway. You’ve brought some much needed entertainment into my day :-)

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:07_

Lunch? Where in the world are you? The States?

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:08_

Yes, I’m in New York, at the moment.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:08_

Sahweeeeet! :D Look at you, jetsetter you! 

So, I’ve shown you mine, now where’s yours?

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:09_

IMG_5816.JPG12 May 201712:07:09

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:10_

Nice background, Manhattan is. You’re pretty high up to have such a view from that meeting room. Whose iPad Pro is that? Yours? And the Tom Hardy face? Very original :P

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:10_

It was either the iPad, or the tea tray. I was improvising, okay? ;-)

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:11_

You’re tall. Very tall. Like, towering, tall. 

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:11_

Yes, I’m tall. 6’2 to be exact. 

You’re short. Quite short. Like short, short.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:12_

Hey, I’m NOT short! I just look short ‘cuz I’m so cute and curvy. :P

In my heels I’m 5’10! (okay, they’re platform heels; I’m 5’4 to be exact)

Nice jeans and shirt, by the way. Pretty low-key ;P for a business meeting.

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:13_

It was a low-key meeting, hence the low-key clothing. :P

You all set for the double date?

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:13_

Yup. Just a bit of makeup left to apply and I'm ready to go.

I’ll leave you to your lunch. 

Have a good one today!

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:14_

Thank you! 

You have fun too, in spite of the asshole date ;-)

Remember; you don't feel safe, you call a taxi and go home. Promise me.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:14_

Promise. :)

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:15_

Good.

And don't forget to send me a story. Send the one you’re most proud of.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:15_

Will do.

Bye

 

_Loki 12/05/2017 17:15_

Bye, darling.

 

_Saga 12/05/2017 17:19_

STAGESCRIPT003V05.docx

STORY003V05.docx

This is a story I developed into a script. Have at it. :)

I’ll text you tomorrow to whine about how men suck. And then you can agree with me and then proceed to tell me how awesome my writing is. Just to make me feel better. :P  Or not... ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my Horrible Sandbox.

**Chapter 6**

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 04:47_

Sorry for texting you this early. I’m at the airport, and I’ve been reading your script/story off and on, for the last five hours (it’s almost midnight here). I hope to finish it before I land in London tomorrow. Or today. Whatever. Sometimes I don’t even know what day it is anymore, with how much I travel around the globe. 

I just wanted to say that your work is absolutely brilliant! I don’t understand why people keep rejecting this. I’ve tried to go into the story unbiased, but after you told me you’d been rejected so many times, I didn't really expect it to be anything but mediocre at best. But Karma just kicked me in the nuts, and flipped me the bird, by delaying my flight by 3 hours (and making me eat those negative expectations), for not having faith in you, because, my Saga, you can write! You ARE the Goddess of Stories! Why aren't you showing this to mr Gatiss?! for heaven’s sake, woman! Show him this! Please! I’d go to see this play! 

Okay. That was it. I’m boarding in 5 mins. Text you on the flip side. :-)

 

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 13:46_

I’m home again. And I’m off to bed to get a few hours of shut-eye. Didn't sleep on the flight. I finished your story and then reread it. It was just as good the second time, as it was the first time around. I hope you don't mind that I printed it out and made a few notes throughout the script. I couldn't help myself.

I saw you haven't seen my last text yet, so read that first. :-)

Good night.

 

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 17:01_

Hey there, I’m awake. Slept like a log and feel quite refreshed. So, how was your date last night? 

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 17:30_

Saga, did you lose your phone?

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 17:40_

Hello?

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 17:59_

I’m getting a bit worried, darling. You promised to tell me how the sucky date went, remember?

 

_18:13 Incoming call: Loki_

_18:15 Missed call: Loki_

_You have 1 new voice message._

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 18:39_

Why aren't you reading your messages? The app says you last checked them yesterday at 20:23GMT. This is not like you. Is everything alright?

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 19:31_

Please, Saga. Let me know if you're okay.

 

_19:45 Incoming call: Loki_

_19:46 Missed call: Loki_

_You have 2 new voice messages_

 

_Loki 13/05/2017 19:48_

It’s been almost 24 hours without you checking your phone. Something’s wrong, I can feel it. 

I don’t know who you are, or where you live, but I know someone who does.

I know we promised to keep our anonymity, but I’m breaking that promise. I’m Sorry. I have to know if you’re alright.

 

———————————

 

_20:01 Incoming call: Tommy H._

‘Hey, Tommy boy! Long time no speak! How are you, darling?

_‘MARK! Thank god you’re there! I’m so glad I was able to reach you!’_

‘Whoah, slow down, you sound absolutely harrowed. what’s wrong?’

_‘I know this will sound completely bonkers, but do you know a thirty-three-year-old, five foot four inches tall, bisexual woman with the build of Kate Winslet, who has a double first from Oxford? Her brother, who died 10 years ago from cancer, was best friends with your Ian from childhood._

_' **Please,** tell me that you know, who I’m talking about?!’_

‘Yes, that’s our Kate.’

_‘Oh, thank god! Wait, her name really is Kate?’_

‘Yes, of course her name is Kate. But, how do you know so much about our Kate?!… How do you know so much about our Kate, without knowing her name? How the hell do you know our Kate? What's going on?’

_‘Mark, stop the third degree, please. I think something is wrong.’_

‘What do you mean, something’s wrong? With whom? And how do you know Kate?’

_‘We’re friends. Sort of… Long story. I’ll tell you later. She went on a date last night. With some hotshot banker from the City.’_

‘Kate went on a date with a _banker_?! _Our_ Kate? Are you sure?’

_‘Yes, **your Kate** , apparently. She told me she had been coerced into it, by her colleague. They were going on a double date. Her colleague and her boyfriend banker and S… Kate and that other banker. She didn't really want to go, but the colleague is also her manager, so she didn't know how to refuse without invoking possible consequences at work.’_

‘Aw, fuck. What a manipulative bitch, that manager!’

_‘Indeed. Now can we come back to the matter at hand?’_

‘Sorry.’

_‘She went on the date and promised to text me afterwards about how it went. Whining about how men suck, she called it.’_

‘That sounds like Kate.’

_‘Yes, well, problem is, she never texted. I haven't heard from her in over twenty-six hours and she hasn't checked her messages in almost twenty-four. At first I thought she was sleeping in, or writing, or something, but now I have a feeling that something’s wrong. I’ve been trying to reach her for the past six hours, but her phone goes straight to voicemail and she isn't answering any texts.’_

‘And that’s not like Kate, at all. She usually answers texts within the two hour mark. Mostly even within an hour. I’m about to go up on stage, but I’ll call Ian to go check on her. You want to tag along with him?’

_‘Yes, please. I’m so worried about her. She told me that she had a bad feeling about the date, but didn’t want to bow out because it was arranged by her manager. I need to know, to see, if she’s okay.’_

‘Alright. She lives at 19B London Road in Morden. It’s on the top floor, above Kebaby restaurant. You have to go around the block though, the entrance is at the back, through an alley just off Aberconway Road. Ian has the keys to her flat. And, Tom, watch yourself, it’s not a fantastic neighbourhood.’

_‘Thanks, mate, I’m on my way!’_

‘Let me know what happens. I’ll give my phone to my assistant and he’ll keep me updated.’

_‘Will do. Bye’_

 

_———————————_

 

_20:10 Calling: Ian_

_‘Mark, love, why aren't you preparing to go on stage?’_

‘Ian, listen, I don't have much time left, before I have to go on, so listen up. I just spoke to Tom Hiddleston, who is somehow a friend of Kate’s, don’t ask me how that’s possible, ‘cause I don’t know either. He told me she was on a date last night, and she was supposed to contact him, to let him know that she got home safe. She never did and he is very worried that something bad has happened. 

I gave him Kate’s address and he’s en route as we speak. Could you meet him at Kate’s and check on her? I  tried to ring her this afternoon and she wasn't answering her phone. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but Tom hasn't been able to reach her in over 24 hours and she hasn't checked her messages either.’

_‘Shit. You don't think…’_

‘Don’t even say it. Just go.’

_‘I’m going. In the car as we speak… Shit. I’m forty-five minutes away.’_

‘Just hurry, okay. And be safe.’

_‘Yup. Love you.’_

‘Love you. Go check on our girl.’

_‘I’ll ring you later, bye.’_

‘Bye, darling.’

Mark threw his phone on the desk, in frustrated impotence, and let himself fall back into the sofa, rubbing his hands over his face with a sigh, trying to collect himself enough to get into the mindset of the character he was portraying in the coming two-and-a-half hours.

Whatever had happened to Kate, he had to let go of the anxiousness that burned inside. As long as there was no certainty that she wasn't okay, he had no right reason for walking out of the theatre production, without prior notice.

It was out of his hands, and he had a job to do. He tapped into the iron discipline that had brought him so much success, pushing the fear and worry as far into the recesses of his mind as they could go, to be examined and experienced at a later moment, and mentally prepared himself for his role.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger WARNING:
> 
> Explicit aftermath of rape and assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> This is my Horrible Sandbox.

**Chapter 7**

 

_ Saturday 13 May 2017, 20:49 _

 

The SatNav in his car had estimated an average travel time of fifty-five minutes. He had chosen to avoid the mess that was the usual traffic in Central London, and made it in forty.  He was grateful that the Jag handled so well, as he zigzagged between lanes, making orange traffic lights within the nick of time, and sometimes ignoring the ones that had only just jumped to red.  There was no doubt in his mind, that he’d have a few traffic violation tickets delivered in the post in the coming days, because there was no way he hadn't been photographed by traffic speed radars on his way to South London.

Turning onto Aberconway Road, he spotted the entrance to the alley behind the shops, to his left; like Mark had described. Just as he was making the turn, a car came speeding out of nowhere, and cut him off, making the turn into the alley with wheels screeching on the asphalt. That must have been Ian. Tom followed the car until it came to a stop at the end of the alley, and double parked his car behind the shiny black Audi A5.

Ian didn't even take the time to greet him properly. He waved to Tom and then disappeared between two garden screens. Tom quickly exited his car and followed the man up steep stairs, to the entrance to the flats above the shops.  The door was then opened by Ian’s key, and the men entered a brightly lit hallway that had two front doors leading off of it. Ian opened the door to the left, and they ascended another staircase, into a dark, and cold, flat. 

It looked like no-one was home. Until Ian turned on the lights in the tiny hallway.

Tom sucked in a breath in shock, at the same time as Ian let out a low groan that sounded more like it came from a wounded animal than from a human.

There were bloody bootprints on the linoleum floor, leading from one of the rooms, to the stairs, disappearing into the dark carpet that covered the steps.

‘Don’t step on the prints.’ Tom said quietly to Ian, when the man hauled himself up the last step, and threw himself through the door of the room, turning on the lights in there, too. Ian didn’t care about the bootprints.

‘Noooo, nononononoooo.’ Tom heard the desperation in Ian’s voice, and he knew he’d come upon a scene that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Swallowing thickly, he shivered as a cold sweat broke out on his back.

He carefully stepped around the bootprints, and took a deep, steadying breath, as he stepped into the room; which turned out to be a small kitchen-dining-room-living-room combo, with light wood laminate flooring. He didn't know why that registered so vividly with him.  Maybe, it was because of the dark -now clotted- blood that was smeared all over it. It was not just on the wood floor, but also on the white kitchen cupboards, and on the light blue wall, next to the door. 

The room smelled of stale urine and copper. And the sweet stench of decay. He tried to breathe through his mouth. Forcing down the bile that threatened to come up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and it was as if he was looking at the scene from far away. He almost robotically turned his head toward where Ian was sobbing, kneeling on the floor, next to a body. 

There she was. 

His Saga… No, _Kate_ … 

The lovely black dress he had so admired on her curvy form -shit, had that only been yesterday?-, was torn; laying open around her body. Her bra had been shoved down to her midriff and her knickers had been ripped away, hanging twisted around one thigh. 

Bruises and cuts mottled her ivory skin. There were bite marks on her breasts. The word ‘slut’ was cut into her abdomen. Were those stab wounds? The knife was laying next to her head. 

Blood had dried, in rivulets, along her flanks… and on the inside of her slightly spread thighs, along with other… fluids… 

Oh dear god… He hastily averted his eyes, as if that would help him bury the sight of rape and assault, deep inside his mind, where he wouldn't have to see it anymore. How the _fuck_ would he ever be able to un-see _this_?! The images were burnt into his brain.

Her face was unrecognisable and bloody; she had cuts in her puffy lips, and there was a deep wound on her swollen cheekbone. Her eyes were also swollen, and black and blue. So was her neck; it looked like her assailant had strangled her, there were dark prints visible on the slender column. Her long red curls were matted and dirty, from god knows what, and lay like a broken halo around her head.

And she was _so…_ so _still_. 

Gasping for air, he made his way to the kitchen sink and vomited, over and over, until all that remained was bile. He automatically turned on the faucet to wash away the sick. Shivering, he laid his head on the cool metal surface of the counter, while holding onto it with his hands, for dear life, trying to keep his wits about him.

‘Katie. _Katie_. Please. Please, _wake up_!’ Ian cried, and from the corner of his eye, Tom saw how he tried to hug a lifeless Kate into his arms, her now limp arms flopped around in a gruesome parody of life, as he hoisted her up into a half sitting position against him.

Then there suddenly was an almost inaudible gasp, followed by a low, animalistic wail, that came from the woman they had thought dead. Ian quickly let go of her, carefully laying her back down on the floor. He was trying to comfort her by gently touching her hair, making soft cooing sounds. Clearly so distraught, that it was all he could do.

‘Oh, _fuck_.’ Tom breathed, as he turned his back to the two on the floor. He immediately fished his phone out of his pocket and dialled 999. He talked to the operator for a minute, trying to get as much information across as he could. It was clear that he was out of his depth, when the operator was adamant that he had to provide the woman’s personal details, and he decided to divert the conversation to to Ian.

‘Ian.’ 

The man didn't even react at first, but then slowly let his wet eyes trail up to Tom. 

‘Ian, they need to speak to you about Kate.’ He held the phone out to Ian, who was still trying to ease Kate’s distress. Ian looked at Tom with a haunted expression on his face. With a shaking hand he took the phone, and started answering the questions the emergency operator had for him.

Tom pulled a soft tartan blanket from the sofa, and carefully covered Kate with it. He tucked it in around her as well as he could, taking care that he didn’t hurt her even more than she already was hurting. It was important that a person who had gotten hurt, was kept warm; he’d once read that somewhere. He didn't know what good it would do for a person who had been laying in a cold flat for hours on end, but he didn't think it would do any harm.

As Ian was talking to the operator, he had stood up, and he was now pacing along the kitchen counter, one hand raking through his hair. The man still looked harried, but he was more composed than he had been minutes before, Tom noticed. Talking to the operator had given him a purpose. And hope.

Tom knelt next to Kate and gently tapped the cheek that was the less swollen of the two, to try and get the woman’s attention.

‘Kate.’ He said quietly, with as comforting a voice as he could master under the circumstances. ‘Darling, can you open your eyes for me. Please.’

She moved her split lips, trying to talk.

‘H’rts.’ It was almost inaudible.

‘I know it hurts, darling. But I need you to stay awake. Can you please try?’

Kate frowned, and gasped, as she tried to acquiesce the request. Tom saw that her left eye was sealed shut, but from between the lids of her right eye he could see a flash of green iris and a black pupil, blown wide, and then retracting to a pinprick, because of the bright light on the ceiling. That was a good sign, wasn't it? He couldn’t remember.

Tom smiled encouragingly at Kate.

‘That’s my Saga. Defiant and brave.’ 

Her breathing became more rapid as her one-eyed gaze darted over his face.

‘L’ki?’ Her voice was a breath forced out from a swollen larynx, the purple handprints clearly visible around her slender neck, now that Tom saw it up close.

The fucker had really tried to strangle her. Tom had a hard time swallowing down the growl of a sudden rage, that threatened to escape him.

How could someone do this to a person? How could a man do this to a woman?! He was overcome with an almost unstoppable urge to drive his fist through the wall in powerless anger, but he pushed it away. Kate needed him more, than that he needed to vent his fury. He answered her with a voice, that, to his ears, sounded like it came form far away.

‘Yes, I’m the Loki from our texts. I’m sorry to break our agreement of anonymity. Turns out I also know Mark. Good thing I do, too, hm?’ 

‘’s ‘kay.’ she whispered.

He saw how she tried to lift her right arm, and helped her slide it from under the blanket. She took his hand in an almost painful grip. Her hand was scary cold. Tom lifted it up a bit as he took it in both his big hands, trying to will warmth into her, through the small connection they shared. Her knuckles were bloody and bruised and one had split open, and her nails had dried blood and skin under them. From what he could see, there were defensive wounds on her arm. The girl had put up quite the fight.

‘You beat the fucker up, huh?’ He tried to joke. It fell short.

A grimace, that could have been a grin, flitted over her face.

‘f’ck’d ‘im uhp bad… ‘e w’s so big.’ The grimace disappeared, and she started to sob with wheezy coughing sounds, tears rolling down over her temples. ‘’M s’rry. C’ldn't stop ‘im. Soh… s’rry…’ 

Tom sucked in a shuddering breath. Did she really think it was her fault? Tears were stinging in his eyes from this realisation, threatening to fall, but he breathed through it. He had to stay strong, for her.

‘It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault, Saga. _Not_ your fault. He had no right to do what he did. No right. No-one has any right to do this to a person. It’s not your fault. You hear me?’

She nodded almost imperceptibly, her breathing was laboured from her distress.

In the distance he could hear sirens. He hoped she’d be able to make it until help arrived. She looked so frail and broken, and the way she was gasping for breath, worried him beyond belief.

‘Darling, just hang on a for bit longer. I need you to calm down a bit. It will help with your breathing. Help is almost here, okay?’

‘’Kay.’ She kept looking at him as if he was her lifeline; the bright green of her gaze flitting over his features, again and again.

His heart hurt from the desperation and pain he saw in that gaze. He had to swallow away a lump in his throat to prevent himself from bursting out into tears. 

‘Yu r’lly ‘ere?’ She asked, sounding confused, as if she couldn't believe it.

‘Yes, I’m really here, darling. And so is Ian.’

Ian heard his name as he hung up the phone, and knelt down on he other side of Kate.

‘Hi, honey.’ He said softly, finding her hand under the blanket. He quickly returned Tom’s phone to him and then held on to her with his other hand, too.

‘Da.’ She breathed, a few more tears escaping her eyes. In that one word there was so much pain and fear and hope and trust, it made Tom’s gaze fly up to Ian’s face. What?

‘I know, honey. I’m here.’ Ian stroked her hair tenderly, with his other hand and then looked up at Tom, saw his questioning gaze, and gave him a wry smile.

‘I adopted her when I was in a relationship with her brother. She was still underage and he had been diagnosed with cancer once before. He beat it that time, but he didn't want her to lose the only home she’d known since their parents had died, so he asked me to become her other legal guardian, in case he fell ill again. I agreed, and I’ve been ‘Da’ ever since.’

Tom nodded in understanding, and turned back to Kate.

‘Looks like there are some things you didn't tell me.’ He gently said.

‘Pot… Kettle… T’m Hiddlst’n…’ Kate rasped, and coughed again.

Tom chuckled softly, in spite of the dire circumstances. He was glad to see she was fighting to stay awake.

‘Touché, darling.’

They could hear the sirens behind the housing block now, and Tom stood up, letting go of Kate’s hand in the process. It flopped down to the ground without any resistance. 

‘I’ll go and wave them down, and show them where to go.’

Ian nodded in thanks and turned his attention back to his adoptive daughter; softly talking to her, keeping her awake. 

Tom hopped down the two flights of stairs and walked into the alley, where the ambulance and a police car were just arriving. He waved them down and showed the paramedics where to go.

One of the pc’s, who had exited the police car, approached him, just as Tom rubbed his hands over his face and heaved a deep sigh, a sudden, bone-crushing fatigue, settling over him.

‘Sir? I need you to answer a few questions. Are you okay to do that?’ The woman asked, as she looked up at him inquisitively. He was sure she’d recognised him, but, apart from the quick flash of recognition flitting over her face, she didn't comment on it, and he appreciated her professionalism. He wasn't in any mood to cater to the whims of his fans right now. 

He answered her questions to the best of his ability and if he didn't know something, he redirected her to Ian, who had also come outside, while the paramedics worked on Kate; they were trying to stabilise her enough to be transported to hospital. The other policewoman had gone upstairs, to secure the crime scene and to take photographs of Kate, and anything else that might be disturbed by the EMTs, while they worked on the injured woman.

About fifteen minutes after arriving, the EMTs appeared again, at the top of the outside stairs, carefully carrying Kate down to the ambulance, on a stretcher.

Kate had been wrapped up in an aluminium emergency blanket and then also in a normal woollen blanket, so she thankfully was covered from neck to toe, Tom saw with a relieved feeling. It somehow just didn’t sit right with him, that anyone, but Ian and himself, had seen her in such a vulnerable state. Intellectually, he knew the EMTs and the police were just doing their jobs, but it gave him the shivers when he thought about Kate, having to be naked in the presence of so many strangers, after what she had been through. 

He knew that he, technically, was a stranger, too, if he was honest with himself. But it didn’t seem that way. Not anymore. Not with how well he’d gotten to know Kate over the past few weeks, in spite of them having never met in real life.

Ian came to stand next to him.

‘I’m riding in the ambulance with her. Do you want to follow in your car?’

Tom looked at the shorter man, surprised at his question.

‘Am I allowed to come to hospital? I thought they only let in family, in these circumstances.’

The man nodded.

‘Yes, but as far as I’m concerned, you saved my daughter’s life, today. If it wasn’t for you, she’d still be up there, cold, and in pain, all alone, and dying. But you listened to your gut and you alerted us to the danger she could be in.  I owe you a debt that can never be repaid. And that makes you more than family. So, yes, you are allowed to come to the hospital with us… If you want.’

Tom swallowed away the sudden emotional upheaval he felt at Ian’s heartfelt words, and nodded.

‘Alright, I’ll follow you with my car. Does Mark know? About… this?’

‘Not yet. I’ve let his assistant know that Kate is being brought to hospital, but other than that, no. He will tell Mark as soon as his performance is over.’

It was probably the most humane thing to do. Tell Mark after his performance, that is. That way, the show would be done, and he would be able to come to hospital straight away, instead of having to perform with knowing in what bad shape Kate really was.

The two men said their goodbyes, and Tom left Ian at the ambulance, to get his car and drive it out of the alley and into the street; where he waited for the ambulance to come out and lead the way to the hospital. He was feeling strangely numb; as if he was in a dreamlike state. He tried to shake it off when he saw the ambulance arrive, but the whole drive to the hospital, he felt like he wasn't in his own body. Strangely enough, it was comforting, and disturbing, at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the hospital, Ian gets some answers from Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay between updates.
> 
> I've been battling a quite aggressive flu for the past two weeks and I've been down for the count for at least ten days out of fourteen. I'm getting better, though. *she wrote while coughing her lungs out*
> 
> I own nothing but my OCs and this storyline.
> 
> I make no money with this story.
> 
> This is my Horrible Sandbox.

**Chapter 8**

 

Saturday 13 May 2017, 21:53, St Helier Hospital

 

The drive to the hospital was a short one. Within ten minutes, they were driving up to the enormous, industrial looking, white, art deco building that was St. Helier Hospital. 

Tom stopped following the ambulance about a hundred meters before it turned into the ambulance entrance, and drove up to the entrance of the visitor parking. He was sure that it would be severely frowned upon if he parked his car in the ambulance bay. There was nothing to do but park his car in the visitor lot and then locate where Ian and Kate had been taken to.

He swerved his car into the first open parking space he could find -it was still quite busy for this time of night-, quickly exiting and locking the vehicle before taking off in a jog, towards the hospital entrance. Which was still quite a ways away from the parking lot. 

When he spotted a wide, glass entrance facade with a sign that indicated it was the Emergency Room entrance, he veered off to the right. Leaving the pavement and entering through the sliding doors, looking around if he could spot Ian.

‘Sir? You can’t be in here. I’ll have to ask you to leave.’ A nurse came towards him, frowning.

Tom held up his hands in surrender and grimaced apologetically.

‘I’m sorry, a friend of mine was just brought in.’ Which surname had Ian given the emergency operator, earlier? He tried to remember… Ah… Yes… ‘Kate Chadwick? I was with her father -Ian- when he found her. I was there…’ He swallowed thickly.

The nurse took in his appearance and seemed to zoom in on, first the dark stains on his jeans, and then on his hands, her expression turning from standoffish to sympathetic. Tom looked down at his hands and only now saw the dried blood smears on them. It was already starting to flake. Kate’s blood. There had been so much blood. He sucked in a shuddering breath, suddenly feeling the horrors of the night wash over him, where before there had been only a strange emotional numbness. 

‘Oh, fuck…’ He mumbled, before he stumbled to the wall, stretching out a hand to support himself and to keep from keeling over. His other hand went to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tried to centre himself, standing slightly bent over.

He took a few deep breaths and then there was a firm, warm hand on his elbow, pulling him upright again. The nurse handed him a few disinfectant wipes from a box that stood on the counter of a reception desk. Tom nodded at her in thanks and quickly wiped down his hands. When they were as clean as he could get them, she took the wipes from him and deposited them into a hazardous waste bin.

‘Are you okay for me to take you to the waiting area? Mr Hallard is already there. Or do you need to sit down for a few minutes?’ The nurse asked, quietly; supporting him with an unexpected strength.

He nodded and gave her a wry smile that turned into a frown.

‘I’m okay to go to the waiting room, but I don’t think I’ll be _okay_ for a long time, after tonight.’ He sighed and shook his head to clear it from the sudden barrage of horrific images that his brain started to throw at his mind’s eye. 

The nurse nodded sympathetically, sporting the expression of someone who had seen some terrible sights herself.

‘I’m sorry for what happened to your friend, mr Hiddleston.’ She said, her eyes containing a sadness that conveyed her sincerity. ‘Let’s get you to the waiting room. I think mr Hallard needs all the support he can get right now.’

So, she had recognised him. And if she had, he was sure that more people would before the night was over. He’d have to send Luke a warning text to expect some media exposure in the coming hours and to have a statement ready.

‘Yes, I think that that would be best.’ Tom said, both in answer to the nurse as well as to his strategising brain. It was as if his mind was trying to protect itself from the horrors he’d seen by becoming overly rational when confronted with a -for him- every day problem, the media. It was a very strange sensation when his mind suddenly jumped from one extreme to another. He mentally shook himself and the horrific images were back. What the hell was going on?

While he was fighting a war with his own psyche -or so it seemed- the nurse had escorted him to a door, which she opened. Then she gestured for him to enter the room beyond.

‘There you go, make yourself comfortable. It could be a while.’ With a last, friendly smile, she ushered him through the doorway and shut the door behind him, leaving him in a room with grey walls and grey furniture; which consisted mostly of uncomfortable looking chairs that lined the walls and a few low tables, with magazines stacked on them, in the middle of the room. There were a few colourful paintings on the walls, but they didn’t really brighten the place up. The contrast between the grey of the room and the colours in the paintings only emphasised the dreariness of the waiting room. The bright, almost fluorescent lights didn’t help with the gloomy feel, either.

He located Ian in a chair that was placed next to the previously opened door. The man was bent over at the waist, leaning his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. He was expelling ragged breaths as he was visibly trying to get himself back under control. He looked up at Tom and gave him a weak smile, which was more a slight wobble of the lips than anything else.

‘Hey man, thanks for coming with.’ He said, sounding grateful.

Tom inclined his head and took the seat next to Ian.

‘Of course.’ He cleared his throat and desperately tried to think of something else to say. But, what did one say in circumstances like these? He was out of his depth. So, he stayed silent, hoping that his presence was a support to the distraught man beside him, already. 

Ian let out a shuddering sigh and sat up, leaning his head back against the wall behind his chair.

‘You know, I’ve known that girl from the time she was a toddler. She has always been such a lively girl. Lived up to the fiery redhead myth with gusto, our Kate. And she’s always been so independent. Did everything on her own terms, refusing to lean on anyone but herself. You know, if she’d asked, we would have helped her with her tuition money for uni, but no, she went and got herself in with a scholarship and then graduated with the highest honours possible. Then she secretly got herself a masters degree next to her working fifty hours a week. We didn’t know about it until we got the invitation for her thesis defence. When I asked her why she didn’t tell me, she told me she wanted it to be a surprise, she wanted me to be proud of her that she’d done it without any help. My god, didn’t she know that I was proud of her already? That I was proud no matter what she would have done with her life?’ A sob made its way out of his chest. ‘She’s always been such a force of nature, and now… Some goddamned asshole thought that he had the right to snuff out her flame. To strangle that fire inside her into submission, until there was only an empty husk left. Did you see how cold and still she was?’ Tears started trickling down his cheeks as he breathed in and out almost violently. ‘I… I thought… she was… d… dead…’

Tom turned to him and laid a hand on his arm, slightly alarmed by how fast Ian’s mental state was deteriorating. He needed to calm the man down, somehow. Fuck, what should he do?

‘Hey, hey, Ian, you need to calm down, otherwise you’ll end up right next to her in hospital. It’s okay to be angry, and upset, and grieving, but you need to get your breathing under control. You won’t be of any use to Kate if you make yourself sick from worry. Kate is _alive._ She is still alive, and she’s going to need you.’

Ian started to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, calming himself down more and more, with every breath taken. Subconsciously, Tom breathed with him. Ian looked at him, grimacing.

‘I know… I know. I’m sorry. I just keep seeing her, laying there. All helpless, and quiet, and lifeless. And I see all that blood. It’s like a horror movie on repeat in my head. I can't stop it.'

Tom sighed and nodded.

‘Yeah, it’s the same for me. But we have to focus on the one positive thing, and that is that she’s still alive. She is safe. We got to her in time.’

Ian hummed in agreement, finally in control of his rampant emotions again. Then he looked at Tom, frowning slightly.

‘So, on the subject of Kate still being alive, which is thanks to your friendship with her, may I ask you how it is that you know my Kate? I don’t recall you ever meeting each other.’

Tom chuckled, feeling very relieved that he managed to pull Ian out of his burgeoning panic attack and more than willing to share the story, of the start of his and Kate's acquaintance,  with the man.

‘Well, it was completely by chance, if you really want to know. It was about six or seven weeks ago, I think. My friend Ben -Cumberbatch- had just gotten a new number and I texted him to ask him if he wanted to go out for a drink. I think it was something like, _Ben, my man, wanna go for a drink?_ And suddenly I get a text with, _I. am. no. man._ _Who is this?_

‘So, I’m confused, I thought I was texting Ben and I’m thinking he’s pranking me, so I decide to go with it. Turns out, I’m talking to a very feisty, very pissed off, and quite drunk woman who calls herself the Saga to my Loki, because there’s no way she’s condemning herself to being a basin holder for the rest of time, like Sygin did. _I’m not that selfless,_ I think is what she said. She proceeds to insult me, then she tells me she will murder anyone who stands between her and her chocolate, and then she starts to rant about how guys really suck and that she’s only going to date girls from now on.’

In spite of everything that had happened, Ian barked out a laugh.

‘Yeah, that’s our Kate.’ He snickered. ‘Doesn’t pull her punches.’

‘I know, that’s what she said.’ Tom smiled fondly at the memory. ‘Apparently, she liked my responses, because she asked me if I wanted to be her pen pal. So, I asked her how old she was. And then she gave me a dressing down on how she just told me that she fucked both men and women and that she was in a pub, drinking, and if I thought that she was an early blooming fourteen year old, or something like that. After that, I just agreed to being pen pals, it seemed the easiest way to appease her. We agreed to anonymously text and we’ve been texting back and forth ever since.’

‘But how did you know to call Mark if you agreed to keep it anonymous?’

‘Ah, well, I asked her if she knew anyone famous, once. And she told me about you and Mark and how you were friends with her brother when you were younger. She never mentioned you and her brother being in a relationship or that you’d adopted her, though. She was very good at keeping all the important information hidden. So, I guess that it was as anonymous as it could be, while she still answered my question as honestly as possible. The fact that I called Mark tonight was a bit of a desperate last resort, after I’d failed to contact her for almost a day. If only I’d been more vigilant about it. But I thought she was just sleeping in, or writing.’ Tom rubbed his face and felt his distress rise to the surface. ‘Fuck. I should have called Mark sooner. I just didn’t know how bad it really was.’ A shiver ran through him at the memory of Kate laying on the floor, for hours on end, severely injured, and dying. He expelled a shuddering breath, desperately trying to keep himself under control.

This time it was Ian’s turn to console Tom. He laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

‘None of us knew how bad it was, Tom. You couldn’t have known. We didn’t know. But, what is most important, is that you raised the alarm, and that we were in time to help her. You saved her life, man. In the ambulance, one of the EMTs told me that if they’d been an hour -or two- later, she wouldn’t have been alive anymore. She was dehydrated, suffered from major blood loss and from hypothermia. He suspected a collapsed lung, due to a puncture by a broken rib, and severe internal bruising. Not to mention the heavy blows to the head she sustained. If you hadn’t been there for her, today, she wouldn’t be alive right now.’

Tom sighed deeply and let his head hang.

‘Alright, so, we both stop beating ourselves up about what happened. It’s no-one’s fault but the bastard who did this to Kate.’ He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to dispel the horrific images, which had reared their ugly heads again, from his retinas.

Ian nodded resolutely.

‘That’s right. And I hope for his sake that the police find him first, because if I ever get my hands on him, there won’t be enough left of him to bury.’ He growled quietly through his teeth.

Tom had never considered himself to be a violent person, but in this instant he could do nothing else but agree with Kate’s adoptive father. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he ever came eye to eye with the man who had violated, and almost killed, his friend. The only thing he was sure of, was that it wouldn’t be pretty.

‘Do you think it was the guy she was on a date with, last night?’ He asked.

Shaking his head, Ian crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his stretched out legs.

‘I don’t think so. I asked her if it was him, when she was still lucid enough, and you were outside with the police. She said it was someone she knew from a pub. Or, at least, that’s what I think she said. She had a hard time forming the words.’

Okay, so, there was nothing to be done until Kate woke up and was lucid enough to give a statement to the police. If she was even inclined to do so. She might be too traumatised to want to revisit the horrific things that had been done to her. Tom’s insides went cold when he thought about her having to rehash the nightmare over and over again. First to the police and then in court, if they ever even caught the guy. And if the media caught scent of it… With Kate being so closely associated with Ian and Mark, and now him, Tom had no doubt that it wouldn’t be long before it the story was widely reported by, at least, the tabloids, who didn’t have the best record on thorough and conscientious journalism. It could turn into a disaster for the poor woman. Maybe there was something he could do to help. He could ask Luke, later. Maybe... Sighing, Tom tried to come up with a solution, but he had trouble focussing. Now that the adrenalin was leaving his system, he was becoming so very tired.

‘So.’ Ian said. ‘They told me it could be a few hours before we heard something. Do you, by any chance, have anything interesting to read, laying about in your car? Because I don’t think I could stomach those gossip rags at the moment.’ He gestured at the tabloid magazines on the tables, eyeing them with trepidation. 

Tom frowned in thought. He didn’t think he had anything in his car. He’d been out of the country for over a week and hadn’t taken anything with him when he raced out to south London, but his wallet and drivers licence. 

‘Um, I don’t think so… Sorry.’ 

Ian sighed disgustedly, looking resigned at his limited choice of reading material.

‘Okay, tabloids it is, then…’ He picked up one of the magazines, holding it up at one of the corners, as if it was something very dirty.

‘Oh, wait.’ Tom exclaimed, suddenly remembering the file he’d saved to his digital cloud. ‘I received a script to review this week. I’ve already read it, and it’s quite good. Would you be interested in reading it? I guarantee that you won’t regret it.’

With an expression of relief on his face, Ian dropped the tabloid back onto the table.

‘Yes! Anything is better than this drivel! If it can get my mind off of worrying about Kate, even when it is for just a minute, I’d be eternally grateful.’

‘Well, I have it saved to the cloud, but I could send it to you?’

Ian looked so relieved at having something to do, that Tom was happy to provide the man with a distraction. If it really was going to take a few more hours of waiting, before they would get any word about Kate’s wellbeing, then any distraction would be more than welcome.

After requesting the address to send the file to, Tom entered Ian’s email address into his phone and selected the file from the cloud, at the last moment selecting the story file to be sent with the script file, as well.

‘Okay, I’ve sent you the script file, but the author also sent me the file containing the story off of which the script was based. They were both written by the same person. If you get to reading the story, too, please let me know what you think. I really like the concept of both, but I’d like a second opinion.’

Raising his eyebrows, Ian looked at him sharply.

‘Are you thinking of taking another project on?’

Tom shrugged.

‘Well, not in the way you think. I’ve taken a year off in respect to acting. There are only a few promotional things left to do, and I have a Hamlet run with RADA at the end of summer. Other than that, I’m completely free to do what I want. I had been planning on taking an extended vacation, until this gem fell into my lap. Now I’m thinking about producing, and maybe even directing, this stage production over the next six to seven months. Have it on stage by December, if it all pans out as I hope it will.’

Ian let out a low whistle.

‘You don’t know how to slow down, do you?’ 

Chuckling, Tom crookedly smiled at him.

‘This is me, slowing down. It allows me to stay in London for a longer period of time and stay relevant within the theatre world.’ He crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his long legs out in front of him, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. ‘Just read the thing and let me know if I’m either on to something, or if I’m about to derail my career, okay?’

Ian snickered quietly as he took out his phone and started reading. 

While Tom half listened to Ian’s reactions, while the man read the script, and half tried to shut off the traumatic experience his brain was trying to process, he slowly relaxed and drifted off to sleep, in spite of the uncomfortable chair and the harsh lighting. Jet lag and emotional exhaustion finally catching up with him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallout. Accusations. Regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything but my OCs and this storyline.
> 
> I make no money from this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox. Or should I say... Sadbox... 
> 
> \-------------------------------------------
> 
> Phew. Long time no see, peeps!
> 
> That's what you get when you contract three types of flue within ten weeks; one 'normal' flue, one stomach flu, and one helluva nasty throat infection that had me out for the count for THREE flippin' weeks. Damnit... And on top of that, we had to get our house ready for sale. Oomph...  
> I'm fighting my way back, but my time behind the keyboard is limited, with house sale, work, and kids, on my plate; so, updates will be patchy and spread out a bit more. Sorry about that. :'(

**Chapter 9**

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 19:08_

Hey

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:18_

Hey.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:19_

How are you doing?

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:21_

On the mend. I think. I stopped leaking bodily fluids. So, that’s a plus. Also I’m home now, staying with Ian and Mark.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:22_

I’m sorry

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:23_

It’s okay.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:25_

No. It’s not. I had no right going off on you like that. I’m so sorry

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:28_

You’ve been through an extremely traumatic experience, Kate. If that doesn’t warrant a blow up at one time or another, I don’t know what does. It’s okay.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:29_

Not if it’s at someone who hasn’t done anything wrong; and if it’s okay, then why have you been MIA for the past nine days? One day you’re there, and the next, you’re gone. Without any explanation.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:32_

I thought it best to give you some space. Give you a bit of room to breathe.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:32_

And myself. 

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:35_

Don’t I get a say?

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:37_

I’m sorry.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:41_

Tom, you’re my friend. In spite of having known you for only two months, I feel like I’m closer to you than to any of my other friends. Up until last week, you’ve been there for me through all this shit, and only one or two of them have come over to visit me in hospital, and now that I’m staying with my da, I haven’t seen anyone. A load of fucking good that lot of good weather friends do. Anything bad happens and they’re in the wind. Fuckers. Don’t be like them.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:43_

I’m sorry to hear that. I swear I’m not gone for good. I just needed a bit of space to get everything into perspective. I’ve been seeing a therapist.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:45_

Yeah, me too. So, how’s that working for you? Are you sleeping better now? Had any more panic attacks?

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:46_

A bit. Still wake up every couple hours, but I don’t lay awake for hours afterward, anymore. I last had a light attack about six days ago, but no more after that. It helps that I can talk about it with someone who has a bit more of an objective view on the things that happened.

 

Saga _31/05/2017 20:48_

I think Ian is doing better, too. He hasn’t broken down in tears every other time he sees me, for the past three days, now. I was getting worried about him, but Mark made him go see a therapist a week ago. He’s been three times now. It’s been helping. I think

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:49_

That’s good. Happy to hear he’s mending.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:49_

How’s the pain? 

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:50_

About a high three or a low four on good days. A six or a seven on bad ones. I had a good day today. Didn’t need as many pills to keep the pain manageable. Also, I’m off the morphine as of five days ago

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:51_

Good to hear/read that you’re bodily on the mend. But, how are you doing, psychologically?

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:53_

I’m doing okay. Will be better once they catch the fucker who did this to me though ;P

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:53_

Kate.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:54_

Tom.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:54_

Kate, please.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 20:55_

Tom, I’m fine. Really

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 20:58_

Please, tell me that seeing a therapist is helping you with processing everything you went through.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:00_

I’m doing well, Tom. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:01_

Seems to me like you’re avoiding the issue.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:01_

Hello Pot, I’m Kettle.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:01_

What’s that supposed to mean?

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:02_

Just that I’m not the one with the avoidance issues here

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:04_

I think that you’re trying to pick a fight right now. Just to avoid talking about how you’re feeling.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:05_

Aren’t you the one who hasn’t shown his face around me in the past week and a half? Maybe if you’d been around a bit more, then I’d be more inclined to discuss my mental health with you. 

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:08_

I told you I am sorry. I know that you’re the one who had unspeakable things done to her, but I was there for the fallout and it threw me for a tailspin, mentally. I had to sort my head out before I had some sort of breakdown. But I’m here now. Please, talk to me.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:10_

Oh, now you want me to talk? Well, I do have some things to say. First off, I’m sorry that my rape and assault weren’t at a convenient enough time for you. Second, you can’t even call it by its name. It wasn’t ‘unspeakable things’. It was rape. And attempted murder. Third, did you know that the surgeons couldn’t save my uterus? I’d say that asshole didn’t just assault me, he took away a choice. He murdered my children before they could ever be conceived. But, hey, at least I’m not pregnant by my rapist, eh. Silver linings and all. 

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:10_

How’s that for talking?!

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:13_

Kate, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:14_

No, you didn’t. But you would have known. If only you’d stuck around. I needed your support and you weren’t there. And you let me think that I’d chased you off with my angry outburst.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:15_

Shit. I can’t express how sorry I am. But you have to understand, if I’d stayed, I’d gone off the deep end. All I can do is be there for you now. Please tell me I haven’t fucked up our friendship beyond salvaging?

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:19_

I don’t know

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:20_

Can I come see you?

 

_Saga 31/05/2017 21:25_

I’ll think about it

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:26_

That’s all I ask.

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:36_

Kate?

 

_Loki 31/05/2017 21:42_

Good Night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> I make no money from this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox.
> 
> \----------------------------
> 
> A bit of a more positive chapter. No Sadbox this time.

**Chapter 10**

Friday 2 June 2017, 14:47, Gatiss-Hallard residence, London.

 

A soft knock on the door of her bedroom startled Kate from a nightmare. Gasping and clutching her stomach, she laboriously sat up and frantically looked around the bright and airy room that had been hers since her early twenties; her retreat whenever she had visited Ian and Mark for more than a few hours. They’d even tried to get her to move in with them when her brother had died, but she’d been too stubborn and determined to make her own path in life to even consider accepting their offer. But, in spite of that, they’d gone all overboard and had splurged on making her room as welcoming and bright and practical -for a writer- as possible. It had been her room ever since.

Slowly but surely, she succeeded in blinking away the horrific images and paralysing fear that held her captive in the last vestiges of the nightmarish dream; fighting to get her breathing back under control. 

With a shuddering sigh, she let herself fall back into the mountain of pillows behind her and rubbed her eyes; wiping away a few stray tears on the verge of falling.

Again, a knock sounded, this time accompanied by Ian’s inquiring voice.

‘Kate, are you awake? Are you decent?’

Kate glanced down at the light grey sweats and the white, oversized, off-the-shoulder T-shirt she was wearing. She could feel her bra digging into her skin and repositioned it to relieve the uncomfortable tightness. It looked like she’d fallen asleep in her clothes again. Although her body was well on its way to being almost completely healed from her ordeal, it was still exhausting to stay awake all day. It happened more often than not that she needed a nap by the time she’d had her lunch. Today she had been so determined to stay awake and work on a new story idea, but, apparently, both her body and psyche had had other ideas about that. She’d been out like a light within ten minutes of settling herself on her bed with her laptop.

She closed the laptop, which had slipped half off of her lap during her nap, and placed it next to her on the bed. Then she checked if the riot of curls on her head hadn’t been completely squashed to one side, like it was wont to do after her impromptu naps. Ruffling her hair and then patting it down again, she answered Ian’s inquiry.

‘Um, yeah. Come on in. What is it?’ She croaked, her voice still a bit hoarse, both from sleep and from being almost strangled.

Ian stuck his head into her room through a partially opened door.

‘Are you feeling up to entertaining a visitor?’ He asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly at her.

‘Depends on the visitor.’ she answered.

‘Well… I don’t really know who it is…’ Ian’s voice had a hint of a laugh in it.

Kate raised her eyebrows at this piece of information as her da snickered, his eyes dancing with mirth.

‘You see,’ he continued, ‘The doorbell rang and as I opened the front door, all I saw was a meadow of flowers on legs…Very shapely legs if you ask me… Also, nice arse… But I digress… This meadow of flowers is very intent on delivering itself to our doorstep… Or, your doorstep… as it is… Hm?’ Ian’s attention was diverted to something outside her room and his head disappeared. 

_The fuck?!_

Kate heard a few hurried whispers outside in the hallway. Becoming curious, she slid her feet off the mattress and carefully stood next to the bed, taking a few wobbly steps toward the door before it swung wide open and in stepped… a meadow of flowers… on legs… Well, Ian hadn’t been wrong about that, apparently. A huge bouquet of white and pale pink flowers, consisting of almost any and every kind of flower she’d ever seen, interspersed with green leaves and tufts of some kind of ornamental grass thingies, was carried into her room… by said legs.

The sudden and unexpected sight was so strange that it tickled her humour, and for the first time in almost three weeks, she burst into a husky laughter, her vocal cords straining to allow the sound. The ridiculousness of the situation had her holding her protesting tummy as she exploded into a giggle fit. Tears springing to her eyes.

‘Hm, not the exact reaction I was going for, but I’ll take it.’ A male voice said with a note of humour in his tone.

Hearing the voice of the man who she hadn’t seen in almost two weeks had her sobering a bit, and she wiped away the tears of mirth with her fingers as she sat herself back down on the bed. She peered to the side of the bouquet, her gaze following a long slender arm, encased in a dark blue cardigan sleeve, up to the face of a gently smiling Tom.

‘Hey.’ He said quietly.

‘Hey.’

‘I’m _so_ sorry.’ In spite of his apologetic smile, his eyes were sad, she noticed.

‘I know.’ She said, tilting her head down and closing her eyes against the sudden hurt that lanced through her when she thought back to the moment she realised that he wouldn’t be coming back to the hospital to visit and support her. Breathing deeply, she decided to let it go. She had enough on her plate as it was and in spite of being someone who had a short temper, she was also someone who usually forgave quickly. She let out a soft breath and opened her eyes again; meeting his regretful gaze. ‘It’s okay.’ A wry smile played on her lips. ‘I’m sorry, too.'

He nodded -both in recognition of her forgiveness and in acceptance of her apology for her explosive anger that she had unleashed on him not two weeks before-, visibly relieved by her acceptance of his apology, and licked his lips nervously, his gaze darting restlessly around the room. He apparently spotted what he was looking for, because he took a step toward her desk, tilting his head to gesture between the desk and the giant bouquet.

‘Do you mind if I…’

‘Nope, go right ahead…’ 

With three large strides, he had crossed her room and sat down the bucket-like vase that held the bouquet; gingerly depositing it onto the desk. Flexing his hands, he let out a sigh of relief. Kate saw the indents the vase had left in the palm of his right hand. Apparently the whole thing had been quite a bit heavier than it looked. 

As he stood in the middle of her room, it was clear that he didn't really know what to do next. She saw the sudden awkwardness he exuded and tried to break the ice with a hint of humour.

‘How the _fuck_ did you get that bush all the way over here?’ Astonishment coloured her voice. ‘Not by tube, I hope?’

‘Um, no, but I can tell you that my Jag now smells like a flower shop. And I might have missed a few stop signs and traffic lights on my way over. I had limited vision toward the left side of the car.’ He said sheepishly, a light pink tingeing his cheekbones.

Shaking her head with a chuckle, Kate gestured to the chair that had taken up residence at the side of her bed over the past week. Seating either Ian or Mark during the long hours of the night when she woke up screaming from her night terrors and needed someone to keep her company so she could calm down enough to try and sleep again.

As Tom sat down, stretching his long legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankles, folding his arms in front of his chest, and leaning back against the backrest, she crawled back up to the headboard of her bed and piled up a few pillows, so she could comfortably sit up straight. And with that, the uncomfortable moment had passed. Thankfully. Kate had had enough awkward, uncomfortable and sad moments in the past three weeks to last her a lifetime.

‘Thanks for the beautiful flowers.’ She said, gesturing to the floral explosion that now sat on her desk. They really were exquisite.

‘You’re welcome... I wasn’t sure which ones you liked. So…’ A self-deprecating grin lit up his face.

‘So you decided to buy up the _entire_ stock of a flower shop?’ She raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Just the white and pink ones… I left them the rest...’ He said defensively.

Kate snickered. 

‘You’re completely off your rocker, you know that?’

‘It’s been brought to my attention once or twice.’

‘Good to hear that others see it too. Wouldn’t want you to operate under the pretence of being a wholesome, normal and charming chap and then take people completely by surprise with your insane ventures. I don’t think the world would survive that.’

A chuckle escaped him and the laugh lines around his eyes deepened at her jest.

‘Not everyone sees it; most people don’t, actually. It does fit in nicely with my evil plans of world domination, I must admit.’ He stroked his chin, rasping his fingers over the stubble that was on its way to becoming a short beard.

‘And you’re growing the beard to accompany it, I see. Bit cliché, don’t you think? The evil beard trope?’

‘I happen to think it looks dashing on me. And…’ He stretched the word. ‘…according to Luke, my publicist, the beard is very much appreciated by many, if not most, of my army.’ He looked very smug at that tidbit of information.

A snort escaped her. What did he just say? His _army_?

‘Your army…’ Her tone was flat.

‘Yes, that’s what my fans call themselves. Or, at least, the fans of Loki do. They’re Loki’s Army. The fans who like the whole of my oeuvre, call themselves Hiddlestoners. I call my fans _my army_. It's nice and short.’ In that moment he looked like a proud little boy in his enthusiasm. His eyes sparkled as he grinned at her.

She gave him an incredulous look.

‘Hiddlestoners… Really?… As in… being _stoned?!_ …’ Clearing his throat, he shrugged apologetically, and she cackled, her body shaking with mirth. What was the world coming to with all these ridiculous nicknames? 'Your life is so weird.’

He pulled a face at her obvious amusement at his expense and visibly deflated a bit.

’Tell me about it… Thank god I’ve got friends like you who just laugh at me and my accomplishments and who won’t hesitate to take me down a notch when it all threatens to go to my head.’ Looking her in the eye, he continued, ‘I take it that you’re not a… _Hiddlestoner_?’ He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

Shaking her head, she hummed.

‘Hmm no, can’t say that I am. Although, I have seen some of your work. I liked most of what I’ve seen. You always give solid performances with a depth to them that not many others can match, I’ll give you that.’

‘So, you _have_ seen my work? What did you think? Be honest.’ He was suddenly serious, sitting up and paying attention; seemingly very interested in what she would say about the quality of his work. Well, no pressure there, then.

‘Well, I haven’t seen that much. Sorry.’ She hesitated, not sure if her limited knowledge of his work was sufficient enough to judge it in general.

Tom waved away her excuses and leant towards her, his whole being focused on what she would say. If she was honest, it was both flattering and slightly unsettling to have someone be so completely focused on the verdict she was about to give.

‘Doesn’t matter, just tell me what you think.’ He gave her an encouraging smile.

Just then, it occurred to her how both of them were artfully avoiding talking about anything that either addressed their falling-out or her rape. Which was fine with her, because being there in that moment, talking to Tom, was the first time since it happened, that she’d been able to push the horrors she’d lived through to the back of her mind, blocking it out successfully and enjoying the blissful quiet inside her brain now that she momentarily had something else to focus on. It was something she was incredibly grateful for. 

‘Alright, but only if you review my script in a bit more detail than the enthusiastic, but slightly unhinged texts you sent me about it. I want constructive criticism.’ She bartered.

A bright smile broke on his face.

‘Deal.’ He said and rubbed his hands in giddy expectation. ‘Okay, I’m ready. Have at it.’

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom’s POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but my OCs and the storyline you don’t recognise.
> 
> I make no money with this story.
> 
> This is my Sandbox. :)

Chapter 11

Seeing Kate again, after having been absent from her life for two weeks, had been a shock. Something that he’d been able to hide well, thankfully. He’d almost started sobbing when he’d laid eyes on her, earlier, but he’d kept his composure. They would have been tears of relief, but still...

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a pale, frail, and severely wounded and bruised woman with dull, almost dead eyes. She’d had numerous tubes and wires attached to her person, and seemed too small for the large hospital bed she’d been reclining in. The nurses had pulled her hair back into a kind of chignon so that the long, springy curls wouldn’t get stuck to her facial wounds while they healed, and it had somehow contributed to her diminished appearance; making her seem even smaller than she already was.

How different she looked now, with her sparkling green eyes expressing her enthusiasm, and with the riot of long, ginger curls which surrounded her fine-featured face and tumbled down over her slender shoulders, like a lion’s mane, moving in time with her excited gestures, as she animatedly gave her opinion about his work. The woman really talked with her whole body; a mannerism he hadn’t detected in her before.

She was still small -but who wasn’t, compared to his height?-, and a bit frail from losing too much weight because of the strain that the healing of her injuries had put on her body, but the bruising was all but gone. Apart from the dark pink slash of a scar that followed her cheekbone from her hairline to where it raggedly ended, half an inch from her left nostril, no visible injuries remained; a few mottled, light yellow stains on her skin the only other remnants from her ordeal. Of course, Tom knew that her clothes covered the more severe wounds. Wounds she’d be recovering from for a long time to come, both physically and psychologically.

At first it had looked like her attacker had miraculously missed all vital organs while stabbing her with the knife, but the doctors had been proven wrong in their optimism when they’d been forced to remove her uterus due to severe haemorrhaging. It had been because of a previously missed wound that Kate had taken a sudden turn for the worse after a hospital stay of almost two weeks. Somehow they’d missed the damage to her reproductive organ when closing up her abdominal wounds, and had blamed her body healing from her many injuries for her suddenly spiking temperature.

When she’d left her bed to go to the loo, a rupture had occurred, causing her to collapse into Ian’s arms, while bleeding profusely from her vagina. She’d been rushed to the OR for emergency surgery. Which had resulted in a hysterectomy. Apparently, necrosis had already set in from the severe cut the dirty knife had left in the uterine wall. Left undiscovered and untreated, the wound had started to fester and had gone from bad to worse. The oversight almost costing Kate her life. Again

He’d heard the whole story from Ian, when he’d rung the man to apologise for dropping out of their lives without any warning. This had been after his text convo with Kate, when he’d started to hope that somehow things could be patched up between them. Ian had been more gracious about Tom’s sudden disappearance than she had been; understanding that Tom had also had a traumatic experience to work through. Maybe not as severe as Kate’s, but it was there none the less.

A deep shame filled Tom when he remembered how relieved he’d been when Kate had verbally blown up at him and had all but physically thrown him from her hospital room in a fit of rage, giving him an excuse to leave and not come back for a while. He didn’t even remember what the fit had been about. Some small thing or another had caused her to explode in anger; a lingering result of her traumatic experiences. The doctors had warned Ian -who in turn had told Mark, and Tom- that such things could occur in the weeks and months after an assault and to not let it get to him too much. Sometimes survivors of sexual assault lashed out at the people who cared for them the most, exploding from their internalised anger, grief, and shame. Pouring it out over the people who stood closest to them; people who were safe; people who wouldn’t give up on them, no matter how ugly their words became.

And what had he done? He’d run the other way at the first possible opportunity to do so. Some fuckin’ hero he was.

He’d seen the headlines when the press had gotten wind of Ian Hallard’s, and, in association, Mark Gatiss’ adoptive daughter’s sexual assault and attempted murder, and his own role in coming to her ‘rescue’. Absurd and cringe-worthy titles like ‘ _Hero Hiddleston Saves Gatiss-Hallard Progeny_ ’, ‘ _Hiddleston’s Heroic Rescue_ ’ and ‘ _Loki’s Real-Life Redemption_ ’ had graced the front pages of the gossip rag newspapers. They’d been waxing poetic about his perceived heroism, and had spun a horrific tale where he’d saved the day, chasing off Kate’s rapist just before the monster had had the chance to kill her. Which, of course, was utter bollocks. The only things he’d done was alert Mark and Ian, and call 999. The EMTs and the doctors were the _real_ heroes.

Someone at the hospital had blabbed to the press. Or maybe someone who was with the police did. Or both. According to Luke, his publicist, the articles had been quite detailed in their description of what had happened to Kate and which injuries she’d sustained. Someone had leaked confidential information about her and her family, and both the hospital and the police department had started an internal investigation to find the culprit, or culprits, but the damage had already been done. In the weeks after that first reporting of the attack on Kate, both Tom and Ian, and, of course, Mark, had been hounded by paparazzi and reporters alike. The leeches had even shown up outside his mum’s house in Suffolk, bothering her with questions. It was something that hadn’t happened since he’d visited her while he was still dating Taylor Swift.

In spite of Prosper PR -Luke’s PR firm- releasing a statement to the press on Tom’s behalf, stating that he was a friend of the Gatiss-Hallard family who’d been visiting with Ian when they’d found Kate, and rectifying the tall tales the gossip rags were spinning about him, the media storm hadn’t subsided. He’d still been photographed and harrassed by the paps, and the press release had been largely ignored in favour of the incorrect, more juicy story of his so-called heroism.

The stress that all this generated, combined with the fact that he couldn’t sleep at night -and if he slept he had horrific nightmares, reliving the trauma of finding Kate, over and over again, and being too late to save her- had led to a series of panic attacks, overtaking him at the most inopportune moments. One of them had even happened in front of Kate, Mark and Ian -and Kate’s doctor- while he was visiting the hospital. He’d felt so embarrassed for breaking down in front of someone who had an even more traumatic experience to recover from than he did. He’d cursed his own weakness.

Looking back with five sessions of trauma counseling and therapy under his belt, he now understood that the panic attacks had had nothing to do with him being weak, and everything with the trauma and anxiety his mind had been desperately trying to process during that time.

Still, his running at the first sign of trouble from Kate had been a shit move. He could have addressed his own problems while still being a supportive friend to Kate. Instead, he’d gone complete radio silence on her, and on Ian and Mark. Going so far as to power down his phone and keeping it off for over a week.

He’d talked it over with his therapist, and she’d told him that it wasn’t unheard of that traumatised people sometimes shut themselves away from the world. Everyone reacted differently to certain situations.

_But still..._

Feeling like an absolute wanker, he’d turned his phone back on after nine days of blissful silence and solitude, and he’d forced himself to listen to each and every voicemail, and read each and every text he’d received from friends and family alike. Most were supportive, but even more had been messages of worry. Kate’s had been heartbreaking. She had apologised for her behaviour, over and over again, begging for him to forgive her. Her hoarse, tired, and trembling voice pleading in his ear. To, _please_ , let her know that he was alright. She’d even texted him during the time before and after she’d had the hysterectomy operation, which he now knew about, but hadn’t at the time he’d read the texts. Over time, her messages had become less frequent, but no less heartbreaking. In her last voicemail she had said that she hoped he was okay and that she wished him well. Her voice had been soft and an underlying tremor had been audible throughout the message, breaking on the ‘ _goodbye_ ’.

He’d cried then. Had loudly bawled his eyes out in the safety of his own livingroom, for the first time since life had turned into a nightmare. It had been a cathartic release; somehow leaving him feeling lighter and more focused than he’d been in weeks.

Not twenty-four hours later he’d received the text from Kate that had started their reconciliation. He’d been so bold to ask if she still wanted to see him, and, to his complete surprise she’d eventually acquiesced to his request after a few more text conversations.

They hadn’t agreed to a date or time for his visit, but he had been so happy that it had slipped his mind at the time. That had been almost a day ago, and this afternoon he’d gotten into his car with his ridiculously large bouquet of flowers, and, in his enthusiasm, he’d forgotten to let her know he’d be coming by. Which he only realised when he’d rung the bell next to Ian and Mark’s front door. He could only hope that his faux pas would be forgiven.

Ian had opened the door, and the man had almost immediately burst into laughter; ushering him in when he realised who it was behind the mountain of flowers. Tom had followed the man up the stairs and had patiently -alright, maybe more nervously than patiently- waited in the hallway while Ian talked to Kate. Then, Ian had suddenly pushed him into the room with a whispered ‘ _good luck_.’, and had proceeded to close the door; leaving him alone in a room with the woman he’d hurt with his shite behaviour. 

Kate’s laughter had pierced through the haze of a sudden panic that had started the moment the door had closed behind him. The shock of hearing her husky laugh had pulled him out of his own head. He’d never heard her laugh before. It had been so unexpectedly joyful that it had brought out his own sassiness; something he thought he’d lost after witnessing the horrors in Kate’s flat.

After that, the awkwardness he’d felt for showing up unannounced, and the nerves that had coursed through his veins, had slowly dissipated as both Kate and he had relaxed into the banter that was so characteristic to their ‘pen-pal’ texting friendship. Somehow it came to them naturally, even in the real world.

She’d proceeded to appoint his beard the ultimate cliché of the ‘evil’ trope, had made fun of his habit of calling his fans his ‘ _army_ ’, and had outright laughed at the name ‘ _Hiddlestoners_ ’. He didn’t think he’d ever been happier in his life; finally recognising his Saga in the slender woman sitting on the bed.

Gone was the ghost of a woman she’d been in the weeks she’d been in hospital. The indomitable spirit he’d come to know through their exchanges in the form of texts, once again starting to shine brightly from within.Her sometimes biting and unforgiving, but always humorous comments and stories of her day to day life, and her straightforwardness towards him, which before he’d only known through the written phrases she’d sent him, came to life in his mind and in front of his eyes; connecting those written words to the voice and mannerisms of the woman in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1 of a 2 chapter update. 
> 
> It used to be one chapter, but it became so lengthy that I decided to cut it ‘in the middle’ (not really in the middle, though, next update is longer ;P ). So, that’s why it might seem to end a little abruptly. Sorry about that.
> 
> Part 2 will be posted within the next 12-24 hours. I think. Still tweaking that one a bit.
> 
> Edit: posted second part. Yay!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom’s POV (continued from chapter 11)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don’t own a thing you recognise.
> 
> Not making any money, either.
> 
> This is da Sandbox! Whoooooooooo! :D

Chapter 12

 

Tom was so distracted by his musings, so focused on the way she moved and talked while she happily criticised and nitpicked -by his own invitation- his work, and so completely struck by her vivacity, that he almost missed her remarks on Coriolanus.

Tilting his head, he interrupted her almost-lecture, surprise colouring his voice.

‘ _Wait_... You saw Coriolanus? Live?... At the Donmar, I mean.’

Kate nodded.

‘Yes, of course. Mark was in it, if you remember. I always make sure to go to his, and Ian’s performances at least once. He hooked me up with a ticket. It wasn’t front row, or second, or even third, for that matter, but I was there for one of the performances. Now, as I was saying...’

He interrupted her again, and a displeased frown appeared on her face.

‘But... I’ve never seen you before. I must have seen you before if you attended the play. Family members of the actors were allowed to come backstage after the performance.’ Confusion coloured his tone as he tried to remember if he’d ever seen a cloud of ginger curls, attached to this particularly lovely woman, bounce around somewhere in the vicinity of Mark’s dressing room. He didn’t think so, because he wouldn’t have forgotten someone like her.

‘Ah, no, I never went backstage, after the show. I almost never do that, because I know how tiring a performance can be for Mark, and both Ian and Mark need time alone to wind down and create a distance between themselves and their on-stage characters before going home for the night. Believe me when I say that life with them is much easier if you obey that one unwritten rule. I learned it the hard way.’ She snickered, and he could see that she was thinking of the occurence that had led her to that lesson learned.

Nodding in understanding, Tom leaned back in his chair.

‘Sorry for interrupting you. _Please_ , continue with your verbal flaying of my performance.’ Tom apologised with a wink, and made a small gesture with his hand to give her the floor.

Kate crossed her arms over her chest, and pursed her pale pink lips together in a show of defiance.

‘I wasn’t going to flay your performance, you twerp.’ Her tone was disapproving as she admonished him. ‘If anything, you were flawless. The award you won for that play was well-deserved, and I am still surprised that you didn’t receive more nominations, and awards, for your interpretation and execution of the character of Coriolanus.’

Surprised by the vehemence of her reaction to his self-deprecating humour, he sat forward again, involuntarily raising his eyebrows as an expression of wonder appeared on his face.

‘Really?’ There was no way that someone as creatively gifted and as talented at writing stories and scripts as she was, didn’t have any remarks for an actor who’d performed a Shakespearian character as complex as Coriolanus. There was always room for improvement; everyone knew that. Right?

Apparently she disagreed with those last thoughts, as she solemnly gave her opinion on his performance.

‘Yes, really. Your balance between the arrogance, the rage, and the vulnerability of the character was perfect. You walked on the razor sharp edge of a knife, and you _never_ waivered. Had you gone one way or the other, or if you’d taken it any further than you did, you’d have upset the equilibrium of the whole play. But you didn’t, and as a result... Well, it’s as I already said... It was -You were- _Flawless_.’ She shrugged; the palms of her hands turning upwards in an appeasing manner as she sent him a small smile when he stayed silent in awe of the woman’s sharp mind, and her ability to communicate her thoughts so well. He startled a bit when she continued after a small hesitation. ‘Or, that’s my verdict, anyway. But who am _I_ in the grand scheme of things? I’m no-one important. I’m just a woman who works in retail and who dreams of one day having one of her plays performed on stage. _Any_ stage... Hell, I’d even be happy with the stage of a community centre in Northern Scotland if that meant that my writing was at least appreciated by some... I’m not someone whose opinions matter to the London theatre world.’

She sounded so wistful that Tom had to restrain himself from sitting down next to her, and hugging her to him to comfort her. Something he was sure wouldn’t be appreciated, as Kate hadn’t allowed anyone -except her female doctors and nurses- close enough to touch her, ever since the attack. Even Ian had been kept at arm’s length, and the man had confided in Tom that, before, Kate had been quite a tactile person. Generous with her touches and hugs when she knew a person well enough.

Tom observed that, despite her habit to gesture with her hands and her body while conversing, she leaned away from him every time he leaned forward, subconsciously keeping the distance between them roughly the same. When he thoughtlessly reached up to adjust his glasses, the movement a bit too abrupt, her breathing hitched almost imperceptibly and her body cringed at his gesture. The flinch was almost unnoticeable, and if he hadn’t been studying her so intently, he’d have missed it. It told him that no matter how well she looked and behaved on the suface, she was nowhere close to alright.

The look in her eyes told him that it hadn’t escaped her attention that he’d seen her flinch. She frowned as she visibly forced herself to relax. The mood in the room bled from happy into awkward. Tom could see that her own body’s reactions both mystified and horrified her in equal measure. Intellectually knowing, or believing, that he wasn’t going to hurt her, obviously didn’t negate her incredibly strong instinct to recoil from unexpected movements on his part; his larger frame viewed as an automatic threat.

‘Sorry.’ She mumbled, a blush creeping up her neck, and her face becoming closed off as she looked away in something akin to shame.

Deciding to erroneously interpret her apology as a continuation of her review on Coriolanus, he shook his head.

‘Don’t talk like that, Kate. Someone who is able to write scripts and tell stories as well as you do, has every right to criticise the way I, and with me, other actors, act out the Bard’s plays. And to me, your opinion is the most important opinion of all, because you’re my friend.’

Giving him a hard look, Kate scowled and wrinkled her nose.

‘That’s not what I meant.’

When he sighed sadly, she crossed her arms in front of her chest again; only this time it was not in defiance, but meant as a shield. Against him. _Fuck_.

Apparently she was determined to address the elephant in the room, no matter what, so he played along.

‘I know it wasn’t, but I opted to continue our conversation instead of emphasising a reaction which happened against your will and made you visibly uncomfortable.’ Tom felt deeply for her. He hated to see her retreat into her shell.

‘Oh...’ Her frown deepened and the corners of her mouth pulled down in evident self-loathing. ‘Sorry.’ Rubbing her arms in a self-soothing gesture, she shivered as she looked down at her duvet, avoiding looking into his eyes. ‘ _I’m sorry_...’ Her whisper was so low he almost didn’t hear it. When he realised that she’d apologised again, his frustration and his sadness at seeing her so unnaturally subdued got the better of him.

‘ _Stop_ apologising, Kate. You have _nothing_ to be sorry for.’ His voice was too loud. Too harsh. The gesture he made was too forceful. He knew it the moment he threw his hands up and the words left his mouth.

This time, her recoil from him was immediate and violent. She was on the other side of the room within the blink of an eye, with her bed as an obstacle between them, clutching her abdomen with both hands as an expression of pain flashed over her face. Her breathing was fast and her green eyes were wild and fearful as they stared at him through a wet layer of unfallen tears.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he let out a shuddering breath as he cursed himself for being a callous wanker with no consideration for her traumatised sensibilities.

‘ _Shit_. Kate... I’m _so_ sorry.’ Stretching his hand out toward her, he looked at her imploringly. ‘ _Please_ , come sit back down. I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘I...’ She began, gasping for air. ‘I... know..., I just... can’t...’ Taking a deep breath to try an calm herself down she spoke again. ‘I can’t... help it.’ A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with a trembling hand. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, no, _nononono_ , it’s _not_ your fault. I should _never_ have made such a sudden gesture, or raised my voice like I did.’ Tom held his hands up in front of his chest, with the palms out, in a placating gesture. ‘Im _so_ sorry.’ He repeated his earlier apology, his eyes burning from keeping his own tears of regret and impotence at bay.

‘I don’t want... to react this way.’ Kate continued as if she hadn’t heard him, another tear rolling down her cheek. ‘I want...’ Her eyes shot back and forth as she searched for the words. ‘I want to be... _normal_ again.’ The desperation in her voice and in her features tore at Tom’s heart; her pain so palpable that he had trouble swallowing around the tears that clogged up his throat. ‘Last week, I needed for Da to just hold me, to tell me everything was going to be alright. I needed comfort. But when he got close, I panicked.’ Her tears were falling freely now. ‘He hugged me, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. The feeling of being touched, of being hugged, sickened me to my stomach. I felt closed in, _trapped_. And I hit him, Tom. I hit my _Da_ to get away from his hug.’ The wounded, keening sound coming from her throat as she broke down in front of him, going to her knees when her legs buckled under her, was something that would haunt him for a long time to come.

Hearing and seeing the depth of her suffering, physically hurt him; it felt like the muscles in his body cramped up, painfully, all at once. He tried to breathe through the devastation he felt at seeing Kate deteriorate in front of his eyes, and it was only when his sight became blurry that he realised that his cheeks were wet from tears.

Quickly, he wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his cardigan and made his way over to where Kate was kneeling on the floor, folded in on herself, making herself as small as possible, as if she wished to disappear and never come back. Her hands covered her face as she sobbed.

‘Kate.’ He softly said her name as he gingerly approached her. She immediately stiffened when she realised that he was closer to her than before. Halting his movements when he saw her cringe, Tom told her what he intended to do. ‘I’m going to sit next to you, but I will not touch you, alright?’ Keeping his voice as gentle as he could, he waited for Kate to nod her acquiescence before lowering himself onto the light grey fluffy carpet in front of her bookcases; moving very slowly, and trying to be as non-threatening in his body-language as possible. He left a gap of about two feet between them, hoping it was enough to ease her mind.

Leaning back against one of the bookcases, he stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He kept his arms relaxed, laying his hands in his lap, folding them together. Next to him, Kate cried, and he felt so unbelievably helpless. He couldn’t hold her while she cried. And he was lost for words. There were no words of consolation for a situation like hers. He couldn’t say that everything would be alright, because that was an abstract concept, so far down the line that it seemed more like a utopian dream than something that could be achieved one day. There were no words to express the sorrow he felt for the woman at his side, so he kept quiet; hoping that his presence would be a comfort to her.

Slowly, but surely, Kate calmed down from her outburst of grief. She groaned softly as she righted herself, drying her face with her t-shirt, and then mirrored him, sitting back against the bookcase, with her legs pulled up, knees bent, and her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her breathing coming in shudders until it evened out and was only interrupted by the occasional sad sigh.

They sat quietly like that for a long time.

As the silence between Kate and him stretched, both of them staring off into space, occupied by their own thoughts, Tom tried to think of something to help the woman next to him. It was clear that she craved the comfort that platonic physical contact could provide, but she couldn’t stand to be held. He sighed when he realised how a previously tactile person like Kate could feel physically deprived after weeks of not being able to tolerate people touching her.

 _Wait... people touching **her**..._ It suddenly hit him. He sat up and turned toward Kate, taking care not to startle her. She looked at him with sad eyes, raising her eyebrows at seeing the hopeful expression on his face.

‘What?’ She asked, her voice hoarse from crying, and her face red and splotchy underneath the small freckles on her cheeks.

‘I have an idea...’ Wonder filled his voice. ‘What if _you_ do the hugging?’

‘Huh?’

‘Well, it’s clear that you can’t stand to be touched, or held, by other people.’ He inwardly cringed at his clumsiness. _Maybe the wording was a bit blunt... Shit._

Kate nodded. To his relief she looked confused by his sudden zeal, but not visibly hurt by his harsh words.

‘What if _you_ were the one holding onto someone? Without them reciprocating?’ Keeping his movements slow, Tom held out his arm toward her.

At first, she shrunk back, eyeing him incredulously. Then, she frowned as her gaze traveled from his face to his arm and back again. He could see how she mulled over his hypothesis, and when she decided that he could have a point, she scooted closer and bodily turned toward him. Hesitating, she reached out her hand, touching his upper arm. Tom made sure to not move.

‘Okay, how do we go about this?’ She asked, looking slightly embarrassed and very tense.

Tom shrugged, causing her to pull back her hand as if she’d burned it on his cardigan. _Shite. Fuckin’ dunce._

‘Sorry.’ He said contritely. ‘I’ll stay still, and you could try and hug me. I won’t hug back, I swear.’

Kate frowned before she forced herself to relax and reach out to him again. She slipped a hand around his upper arm and pulled it towards her. When he couldn’t reach far enough, and wouldn’t budge because of his promise to not move a muscle, she shuffled forward on her bum, until she was able to wrap her arms around his arm, hugging it to her as if her life depended on it.

‘Or, you could just hug my arm.’ Tom deadpanned, raising a brow as he tried to diffuse the tension. He made sure that he kept the hand that was now resting in her lap balled up into a relaxed fist, so that he would not accidentally grope her leg. Or worse.

When he looked down in reaction to a sudden snicker that came from her, all he could see was an explosion of red curls draped over his upper arm and his shoulder. Kate was looking at where her hands were wrapped around his elbow.

‘Give a girl a break, will ya?’ Came the hoarse, sassy retort from under the curls.

‘Has anyone ever told you that you have a lot of hair?’ He blew against a stray strand that was tickling his jaw.

An annoyed huff sounded before she looked up at him, her eyes glittering dangerously.

‘You better not say that I look like Merida, you toff, or I’ll show you how much like Merida I really am.’ She warned, but there was no weight to her words as she snickered again.

‘ _Right_. Because you _slay_.’ He couldn’t help but grin at her. It was clear to him how relieved she was that his idea had worked. As long as she was the one touching, the one in control, she was okay. 

‘And don’t you forget it.’ 

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel like it, leave me a note. It’s always nice to hear from my readers. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Cheers! *waves*


	13. A/N: Portrait of Kate (not a story update)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not an update. 
> 
> Well, not really... 
> 
> I’ve drawn a portrait of Kate as I see her (The way she looked when the texting between her and Tom started). 
> 
> It’s over on DeviantArt if anyone is interested. And if you’re not; no worries. :)
> 
> I’m very new to drawing digitally, so sorry if it’s a bit stunted... :-/
> 
> Link below.

[Kate](https://www.deviantart.com/freyachild/art/Kate-766562974)


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A text convo between Loki and Saga... I mean, Tom and Kate. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, after updating my story 'Skye Is The Limit' for the sixth (? IDK) time in a row, I decided to give some TLC to this one for a change.
> 
> The Texting Sandbox. The Textingbox? Hmmm...
> 
> Oh! And I'm so happy to finally be able to use real emoji's in the texts! They're fun!!!
> 
> Happy Reading!

**Chapter 13**

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:09_

You got some ‘splainin’ ta do.  🤨

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:09_

Seriously  😕

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:41_

Don’t ignore me, you manipulative little shit. 😒😒😒

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:43_

Oh... Just saw the time. U r probably busy being big important actor RADA jerkface rehearsal guy. Whatshisface... 💀

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:45_

Howz dat goin’?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:47_

I feel like I’m talking into a void... ⚫️

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:49_

You still got some ‘splainin’ ta do. 

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:50_

Not letting that go. No matter how much u r trying to distract me by not answering... 

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 14:50_

Whatever. Text me when you see this. 

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 18:29_

What did I do?!  😳

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 18:41_

Hello?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 18:44_

Now I’m wondering if you’re ignoring _me..._ 🤨

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 18:54_

asdfghjkl

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 18:55_

What?  😐

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 18:55_

Mark fan-girled over me today... 

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 18:55_

Oh

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 18:57_

Do you have any idea how disturbing that was? Mark Gatiss... Fan-girling... Over me... It wasn’t pretty... There was manic laughing... There were tears... There was snot... SNOT, TOM! Which he smeared all over my fucking face when he grabbed my head and started to kiss my cheeks, and my forehead.

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 18:58_

Oh, shit. Are you okay?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 18:58_

Yeah, I was too surprised by Mark’s outburst to freak out, myself.

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 18:59_

Oh, well, that’s good, right?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:02_

I guess.

But we digress. Thou trickster.

All of the above happened, because a certain someone gave a certain script, and a certain story to Ian, who then passed them on to Mark, who, I heard from a very trustworthy source, then contacted the trickster asshole whom Ian had received it from. This trickster then proceeded to tell him that the phenomenal and extraordinarily intelligent -his words, verbatim- script & story he’d just read had been written by none other than yours truly.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:03_

And when Ian came home and found out who wrote the script he had -unknown to me, by the way- been obsessing over for the past weeks, I had to go through the whole fucking thing again. 

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:04_

Sorry?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:05_

Right. 

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:09_

In my defence. It is a very well written and engaging manuscript. The story is witty and intelligent. I had to share it with the people whom I knew would appreciate it as much as I do. Mark was right about lauding it as phenomenal. If you want, I can come over and fan-girl over you, too. I felt like it when I read it the first time. And the second.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:11_

What about the third? Not as engaging anymore, was it?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:13_

By that time I was ready to worship the ground you walked on, and erect a statue, nay, a temple in your honour, to show the world the magnificence of the Tale Spinner Goddess.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:14_

Urgh

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:15_

And? How are they now?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:16_

They’re very proud.

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:16_

As they should be.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:19_

It’s weird. 

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:19_

Why?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:23_

They’re acting like a couple of proud dads who have suddenly discovered that their little girl is more like them than they could have ever dreamed of, which made them overly emotional, and now they’re anxiously obsessing over how to protect me, and my literary endeavours, from creative exploitation by the Big Bad Bosses of Theatre and Film. Apparently, I now have a literary agent/manager, and a solicitor who is specialised in literary, theatre, and movie business. This afternoon, I signed some documents making it so.

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:24_

Wow. They do work fast, don’t they...

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:26_

Yeah, it’s like they went into overdrive the minute they found out I wrote that script. Went into full-out protection mode. They made me show them my other finished works, and those have all been officially copyrighted and registered in the past few hours. Both Ian and Mark insisted on it. It was so fucking weird.

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:27_

Maybe their behaviour is not that weird.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:27_

Tom

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:27_

Yes?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:28_

Why are you saying that?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:28_

🤷🏼

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:28_

What did you do?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:28_

Nothing

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:28_

Yet

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:29_

Fuck off with the secretive bullshit, Tom! Why are Mark and Ian going full metal jacket on my work?!

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:31_

When I gave Ian the script to read, I might have mentioned to him that I want to produce and direct the play. Have it on stage by December. 

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:40_

Hello?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:45_

Kate?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:46_

Kate? This isn’t funny. Come on. I know you’re there.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:48_

I am sorry. Kate can not come to the phone right now. She has suffered a very serious mental breakdown. BECAUSE SOME IDIOT, MANIPULATIVE TRICKSTER ASSHOLE CAUSED HER TO HAVE A CONNIPTION!!!!!!

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:48_

Mother. Fucker.  🥵🥴

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:49_

😳

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:49_

Are you serious?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:49_

About the play? Yes. 

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:50_

Sorry if I caused any inconvenience...

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:50_

Sure you are.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:50_

But... Really?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:50_

Yes. I am really sorry.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:51_

That’s not what I meant. And you know it.

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:51_

😈

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:53_

Yes, I’m serious about the play. I’ve been looking at venues in the past few days. Though, if I’m honest, I might have already have one in mind. How would you feel about the Donmar? I think it’s a really good fit for the story. Keeping it small, and intimate. I know their creative director, Josie Rourke. Is it okay if I show her your script?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:53_

Holy shit. The Donmar?! Like, Covent Garden, Theatre District, Donmar?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:53_

Yes.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:53_

HOLY SHIT!!!

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:54_

Are you serious!?!??!!??!?!?? Asdfghjkl RHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:54_

I mean. Yeahsurethatwouldbeokay. It’s all protected and encased in a full metal jacket now, courtesy of my two ‘dads’, so... Have at it. 

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:55_

You really think it would generate a Donmar worthy turn-out?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:55_

There is no doubt in my mind, whatsoever.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:56_

Wow...

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:57_

I’m so happy you’re on board with this.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:58_

Why wouldn’t I be?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 19:59_

Well, you were a bit hesitant to show me your work in the first place. And a lot hesitant to show Mark your work.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 19:59_

**_You_** showed Mark my work (through Ian).

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 20:00_

True. But still... I thought I’d have to do a lot more groveling and begging.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 20:01_

I’m taking each win as it comes. I decided on that, yesterday. During therapy. No more holding back. Life is too short. Grab it by the balls 🎱 🎾 🏀 and hang on tight. 

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 20:01_

This is gonna be one hell of a ride. Isn’t it?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 20:02_

If all pans out as anticipated? Yes, it is.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 20:02_

Alright. BRING IT ON!

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 20:03_

Is it okay if I come by tomorrow? We could go for a stroll in the park. Talk things over?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 20:03_

Sure. What time?

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 20:03_

After lunch? I think I could be at Mark and Ian’s place at around 13:45, maybe 14:00?

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 20:04_

14:00 it is. See you tomorrow!

 

_Loki 07/06/2017 20:05_

Until tomorrow. Have a Good Night, darling Saga.

 

_Saga 07/06/2017 20:05_

G’night, Lokester! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked the update, and have the time, leave me a note, or some kudos. The Muse loves both. 
> 
> Cheers!


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies!
> 
> Here is another chapter for you. And it's quite dark.
> 
> I have to warn you, it's quite disturbing in places.
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNING* for most of the things mentioned in the story tags.

**Chapter 14**

 

Thursday, 8 June 2017, 13:57. Gatiss-Hallard Residence, London.

 

Walking up the road from the direction of the tube, Tom suddenly noticed that an ambulance and a police car were parked in front of Mark and Ian’s house. A feeling of cold dread washed over him, and he started to sprint up the hill; on the inside he chanted a desperate ‘ _No no no no no no no’_ in time with his footsteps. Something had happened. And the presence of an ambulance never meant anything good.

When he came to the front door, he rang the bell, loudly, repeatedly.

A harried looking Mark pulled the heavy door open, and, seeing that Tom was on the other side, gestured for him to come in.

‘Mark... what happened? I saw the ambulance... the police car... Kate... Is she alright?’ Unable to string any long, coherent sentence together, both from panting from his sudden quick run up the hill, and from the stress of not knowing what to expect, he had his hands on Mark’s shoulders as he almost shook the man in his desperation to get an answer. The right answer preferably. Where Kate was okay.

To his horror, Mark shook his head, looking dejected.

‘She’s not okay, Tom. We’re all not okay. We had a terrible fright.’

‘What? What happened?!’ He almost shouted the question at Mark.

The other man gestured for Tom to step into the sitting room.

‘Come see for yourself.’

Tom didn’t have to be told twice; the feeling of dread inside him tripling in strength when he walked in the door and saw how an EMT was tending to Kate, who lay on the sofa, looking like death warmed over. 

‘Oh my god.’ Tom was beside her in a split second, careful to not hinder the EMT in her job. ‘What happened?’ He asked again, lightly laying his fingers against Kate’s cheekbone to check if she was still warm. She looked so pallid, that he had to determine for himself that she was still alive. A breath of relief left him in a whoosh when he could feel her breathing under his hand.

Ian was the one who answered.

‘She had a severe panic attack, and fainted. We didn’t want to take any chances, so we called an ambulance. It all happened so fast...’

Looking up from Kate’s pale face, Tom noticed two Police Constables standing by the dining table, looking through what appeared to be pictures.

‘And the police?’

‘They’re here for the reason Kate had her panic attack. Someone put an envelope containing photographs and a threatening letter into our letterbox. Addressed to her.’

‘What’s in the photographs that it had her reacting so violently?’ Below his fingers, Kate moved, and he could feel the muscles of her face contract and relax when she frowned and then opened her eyes. She stiffened for a second, but then recognised him, and relaxed.

‘Tom? Why are you upside down?’ A hand went to her forehead and she frowned. ‘Ouch... Why does my head hurt?’ Tom could see that, at the same time that she remembered what had happened, she noticed the EMT holding her left arm, taking her pulse. Pulling her arm back violently, she kicked her legs to push away from the unknown woman, causing her to launch herself up over the armrest of the sofa, coming back to chest with Tom. 

Turning his head away, so she wouldn’t konk him out with the crown of her head, which almost hit his chin, all he could do was catch the panicked woman from where he was knelt by the side of the sofa, before she tumbled to the floor and hurt herself, again. He almost lost his equilibrium from the force with which she threw herself against him, but, thankfully, he managed to support them both, and stay upright.

Keeping his arms around her as loosely as possible, thus hoping to prevent her from feeling caged in, Tom tried talking to Kate in a soothing tone.

‘It’s alright Kate. You had a nasty fall, and this lady is here to make sure you’re okay. She’s an EMT. See? She’s in uniform.’ 

Grabbing onto both his arms that were around her waist, Kate pushed herself further back into his embrace. He could feel how she trembled, and kept on speaking to her in a low, quiet voice; his lips forming the words next to her ear.

‘You’re okay, Kate... No-one here will hurt you... You’re okay.’

A shuddering breath escaped her as she visibly tried to calm herself down. Bit by bit, he could feel her forcing herself to relax against him. She let go of his arms, and rubbed her hands over her face.

‘Shit.’ She murmured. Then she looked at the EMT, who had retreated from them slightly, and was patiently waiting for Kate to regain her calm. ‘I’m sorry... I startle too easily... I’m sorry.’ Tom could hear the regret and the shame in her voice, and his heart hurt for her.

‘It’s alright ms Chadwick. Are you okay to continue? I’m almost done. I already took your blood pressure and your pulse; I just have to take a look at your pupils, and at the side of your head.’ The EMT’s voice was reassuring, and her smile sympathetic.

Kate nodded, and slid back down the armrest with Tom’s help, eventually sitting down on the seat of the sofa, pulling her knees up, and wrapping her arms around them, forming a makeshift shield between her and the outside world. 

Tom had reluctantly released her from his embrace. Having her in his arms like he did just then, protected and safe, had awakened a primal instinct deep down in his gut, and he was loathe to let her go, lest she got hurt again. Which was nonsense, of course, but he just couldn’t help feeling intensely protective of her.

The EMT shone a light into Kate’s eyes and then proceeded to feel the side of her head, behind and just above her ear. Kate winced slightly when the woman pressed down on a painful spot.

‘Well, good news.’ She said when she was done, sending Kate a friendly smile. ‘You don’t have a concussion, and there’s just a small bump where you hit your head against the floor. You may feel it for a couple of days, but other than that, you’re fine.’ Standing up, she stuck out her hand for Kate to shake. ‘Just make sure to take plenty of rest; you passing out for as long as you did, has more to do with exhaustion than with that bump on your head. Your body needs sleep. As much as you can get. Also, drink plenty of fluids, eat healthily, and go outside for a while, suck up some of that sunshine that we’ve been having for the past couple of days.’

Kate shook her hand briefly before nodding.

‘okay.’ She said quietly.

After that, the EMT joined her male colleague, who had been keeping a respectful distance from Kate after having been told what medical history she had, and together they made their way outside, to the ambulance. Within minutes, they had gone.

Sitting down on the sofa next to Kate, Tom took in her pale face and her subdued demeanour. Then he looked at Mark and Ian, who had both taken a seat on the robust wooden coffee table in front of the sofa. They were almost as pale as Kate, looking shell-shocked.

‘So, what’s going on?’ He asked. Next to him, Kate sucked in a deep breath before releasing it again in a whoosh. She lifted a shaking hand and pushed a thick lock of her corkscrew curls behind her ear, only for it to spring back into its place against her cheek a second later. She stayed quiet and let out a sad sigh.

Mark stood.

‘Come see for yourself.’ He said, gesturing for Tom to follow him to the dining table.

The PCs had laid out all the photos in groups, and Tom noticed immediately why. Each group contained pictures of one specific person. There was a group for Ian, one for Mark, one for Kate -though that one was smaller as she didn’t go out much nowadays-, and one... for him.

‘What is this?’ Picking up a picture, he saw that it depicted him, as seen from the back. A hand had been stretched out from the person taking the picture, almost touching his shoulder. They had to have been very close to be able to take a picture like that. 

Looking closer at the details in the photograph, Tom noticed the background. It had been taken when he’d been walking up to the entrance of RADA, the day before. There were more pictures, just like that one, some taken from far away, some from close up. All of them taken as he was in transit from one place to another, in London; on the tube, in the streets, even one inside his favourite bakery. And all of them were from the past two weeks. 

Some were taken from such close quarters, just like the first one he’d picked up, that it surprised him that he’d never noticed that someone was near his back. 

‘Jesus Christ.’ He exclaimed, a cold wave of shock traveling down his spine when he saw that Ian and Mark’s photos were made in the same way as his were. Most from disconcertingly close up, and sometimes with an outstretched hand in them, as if showing that the photographer had every opportunity to touch them if he wanted to. To Tom, the photographer was most definitely a he, because the hand in the pictures looked distinctly masculine.

‘They’re from _him_.’ Kate’s strangled voice came from the sofa. Tom turned towards her, and saw how she unfolded herself from her protective embrace. ‘He’s taunting me.’ She visibly shivered. Rubbing her hands over her arms, she walked up to where he was standing, her gaze haunted when it met his. She reached over the table to grab a sheet of paper and gave it to him, the paper shaking in time with her trembling hands.

Tom looked down at the words that were typed onto it by an old-fashioned typewriter, and his insides turned to ice at what he read.

 

 

——————

_** Hi Slut! ** _

_** It has come to my attention that you didn’t die the way I planned for you.  ** _

_**You’re such a naughty little girl, pretending to be dead while I fucked you. I remember how good you felt around me as I strangled and stabbed you.** _

_** You were such a responsive little slut. Just as I always knew you would be. ** _

_** And now we have to do it all over again. Don’t worry,I’ll slit your throat at the end, so you won’t come back this time. ** _

_** Maybe I’ll even throw in your ‘daddies’, and that attention whore actor friend of yours,just for the fun of it. Give all of them a nice, Red Necklace, too. ** _

_** Yes, Tom Hiddleston, that was a pun, just for you. ** _

_** I hope you like my photoshoot. You were all such good subjects to work with. So approachable. ** _

_**Until we meet again.** _

——————

 

The piece of paper slipped from Tom’s suddenly strengthless fingers, and he felt bile rise up in his throat, dizziness threatening to throw off his balance.

He hadn’t been present during the harrowing police interview after Kate had woken up in hospital. Only Ian had been allowed to attend, so he didn’t know any details about what had happened during those horrific hours that she’d been alone with her assailant; apart from the fall-out he and Ian had encountered afterwards, of course. Which had been nightmare inducing enough. When Ian had come out of Kate’s room after the police had gone, he’d almost been green with nausea and shock

Reading first hand about the horrors the woman in front of him had gone through, made him relive finding her all over again, only this time the realisation of the enormity of the atrocity she’d experienced, hit him even harder. The smell of copper, stale urine, and death once again permeated his olfactory senses and he dove past Kate, through the sitting room door, through the hallway, and into the loo, where he only just reached the toilet bowl before he chucked up his lunch, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

He startled when a delicate hand found its way into his hair after he was done being sick, combing it back from his face in a soothing way, while Kate’s other hand held out a glass of water in front of his face. Tom took it with a hoarse ‘Thank you’, and rinsed his mouth, spitting the soiled water into the toilet before it was flushed. He drank the rest of the water and set the glass down on the floor tiles. 

Keeping his head down and fighting the shivers that ran down his spine, he apologised.

‘I’m sorry.’ _I’m sorry for throwing up, I’m sorry for leaving you alone when you needed me, I’m sorry for not sounding the alarm any sooner when I couldn’t reach you, I’m sorry for not being able to save you from a monster... I’m sorry..._

Two hands tentatively wrapped themselves around his face, tilting it back. His gaze met Kate’s, and all he saw was her concern for him, and her compassion. 

‘It’s okay.’ She whispered, her expression one of sympathy.

He didn’t deserve it. Any of it. He’d failed to protect her. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t known her in real life at the time, he just felt so incredibly guilty for missing the clues that something had been wrong. He’d almost been too late. His friend... his Saga had almost been gone from this world. The thought alone brought him to the brink of a breakdown.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispered again, his voice breaking on the second word. A sob made its way out of his throat, and then it was as if a dam had broken. His arms went around Kate’s waist as he buried his face into the soft shirt that covered her tummy. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry...’ He kept repeating the apology like a mantra as he broke down with loud gasps, his tears wetting the cloth of Kate’s shirt.

In his distress, he hadn’t noticed how his arms had tightened around her, and how she didn’t seem to mind his touch as much as she had before. He also hadn’t noticed that she had started crying, too, until she went to her knees, kneeling beside him, and hugging him around his neck, pulling him to her as if her life depended on it.

At first, he stiffened, knowing that she could freak out any minute from being so close to a person, but when nothing happened but her hugging him tighter, he buried his face against her hair and held her to him as he let out all the poison and grief that had been festering away inside him for the past weeks. He’d thought that he’d been okay after a few counselling sessions, but somehow, this felt more cathartic and liberating than any of the talking had.

Slowly, but surely, he started to calm down, breathing in the calming smell of strawberries that clung to Kate’s hair. A few shuddering breaths left him as he regained a semblance of self-control. Only then did he notice that Kate had buried her face against his neck while sobbing her eyes out. He could feel her tears run down his throat and soak into the collar of his shirt. Gingerly, he laid his flat hand on her back, stroking up and down in slow, soothing movements until Kate had also calmed down to a point that she wasn’t bawling anymore and was breathing more evenly against the skin that spanned the muscle between his shoulder and his neck.

His knees where starting to hurt, and he slowly changed his position, sitting down on his bum, mindful of how Kate could interpret the movement. To his surprise, she moved with him without hesitation, until they were sitting side by side, leaning against the tiled wall, he on his bum, with his legs stretched out beside the loo, and she on her knees, while still holding onto each other. Kate leaned into him, keeping her face pressed into his neck.

Looking up from where his face had been buried in Kate’s hair, he saw in the half-light of the hallway that someone had shut the door between them and the people who were present in the sitting room. He was thankful that a modicum of privacy had been granted to them; especially after both his and Kate’s outbursts.

If he listened closely enough, Tom could hear muffled voices come from behind the door, but not much more. Mark, Ian, and the PCs were undoubtedly discussing the pictures and that disgusting piece of paper. Glad that there was a door between him and the horrors that were written down in that letter, Tom relaxed against the wall, pulling Kate closer to him.

After a couple of minutes of indulging himself, Tom cleared his throat.

‘It’s not that I don’t appreciate the return of your tactile nature, but I have to admit, it’s a bit sudden after all that’s happened.’ He tried to make it into a bit of a light-hearted remark, and, apparently, it worked, because Kate snorted against his neck, sounding amused. It caused goosebumps to rise on his arms. He suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with being cold. _Not the time to explore that. Any of it! Might never be, and that’s that._ He admonished his libido; cutting off the unexpected surge of arousal with an iron will-power.

Releasing her grip on Tom’s neck, Kate pulled away from him, avoiding his gaze. Her face was splotchy and red, and he couldn’t quite discern if it was because of the crying, or if she was blushing. She flopped down next to him, also leaning against the wall, and grabbing his arm, hugging it to her. It gave him a sense of deja vu.

‘I have the feeling that I’m being used.’ He started, feeling her stiffen at his words. Before she could pull away, he continued, ‘My arm is turning into your security blanket. Isn’t it?’ Immediately, she relaxed, letting out a snicker.

‘You betcha.’ She stated. 

‘In spite of feeling very flattered that a part of me helps you cope, I do feel that I have to remind you that I’m quite attached to it. I don’t think I would be able to part from my arm, not even if you asked me to.’

This time, a soft, genuinely amused laugh escaped her, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

‘I’d never ask that. I rather like that it’s attached. Especially because it’s attached to you.’

A small hope started to grow in his heart when he heard her words. He looked at her sideways, from the corner of his eye, and saw that she was looking straight forward, the expression on her face betraying that she was wondering if she had said too much.

Before he could say anything in return, the door to the sitting room swung open and Ian looked around the door jamb.

‘Sorry to interrupt, but the PCs need your statement before they can go, Kate, and they have to go soon. So, if you’re feeling up to it...’ His tone was apologetic.

Kate sighed and nodded. She scrambled to stand up, Tom quickly holding out a hand to support her. Giving him a grateful smile, she stood, and followed Ian into the sitting room.

Tom also stood, and picked up the water glass Kate had brought him. He deposited it onto the counter in the kitchen before making his way to the sitting room. He knew that he and Kate needed to talk about this budding thing between them, especially because the whole situation was so incredibly fragile, but now was not the time to do so. First they had to figure out how to deal with the threats that had been made against them by a psychopath. There was no doubt in his mind about what they were up against, and it filled him with dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Red Necklace pun' refers to an audio book Tom has read for (it was a couple of years ago). It's 'The Red Necklace' by Sally Gardner; a YA book about the french revolution, and it's quite good, but occasionally deals with slit throats and guillotined people, hence the 'Red Necklace'.  
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